KuroInu Rebellion: Demon Slayer
by Orichacos
Summary: Wimblegurk Brigade's Challenge: Alistair Aquila lost everything to the demons. Now, it's time for vengeance. He will hunt them down, one by one, until his dying breath. Joining up with the Black Dogs seemed like a good investment in that endeavor. Cover image by shimhaq98
1. The Battle of Ostagoth

_He dreamt of fire._

_A blazing inferno, one so ferocious that it threatened to suck the air from his lungs. He could taste ash and cinders, felt the heat lick at his face. Soot dirtied his pale skin. He could only stare in silence as his village burned before his eyes, watch as his friends and neighbors were slaughtered by black shadows. __The shadows laughed as his friend screamed, the darkness taking her. His parents lay before him, reaching for him, drenched in a pool of blood. His father's shaky hand gave out, slamming into the bloody mud beneath him. A wet sensation splashed onto his face._

XXX

He awoke to rain.

He stared up at the roof of his tent and noticed a tear, water dripping onto his helm and slipping into his visor. He heard footsteps from outside, sloshing about in wet earth.

"Oi, it's time to move out." A voice called. The flap of his tent rattled as a hand beat on it. "We got a schedule to keep and this rain won't change it." A bald head peered into the tent and glared. "That means you, er… Shite, what was your name again?"

"Alistair." The tent's sole occupant replied. "Alistair Aquila." His voice was a smooth baritone and echoed slightly due to his helm.

"Right fancy name you got there. You a nobleman's bastard or something?" The bald man joked. "Oh Gods, you even sleep with your blasted gear on? The hell's wrong you?"

The man gestured to Alistair's armor: Dull grey metal plates strapped over black pants and arming doublet—chainmail woven into the fabric wherever plate did not cover—with white fur lining the collar. Alistair's helmet, an armet with two slits for vision, completed the set. Though he seemed as fully armored as a knight, the quality of his armor was rather poor. The metal of his armor was made of pig iron, barely suitable for warfare, and his arming doublet was sewn up haphazardly, with many spots indicating patchwork repair and stitching.

The armored man stared back impassively. "There could be an ambush."

The bald man laughed. "Hah! Like those orcs are smart enough to do that. Come on then, it's time to march." His message delivered, the man withdrew from the tent. Alistair sighed before rising to his full height of six feet tall. He strapped his longsword to his belt and his kite shield to his left arm, before grabbing his spear in his right hand. He exited the tent, hearing the rain splash against his helm. He saw other men leaving their tents and followed them to the camp's center.

Atop a small platform stood Vult, the leader of the Black Dog Mercenaries. To his sides were his vice-captains, Hicks and Kin. They looked over the crowd of mercs gathered before them with an appraising gaze. For a moment, Vult and Alistair had locked eyes, and the captain grinned.

"All right, listen up!" The man boomed. The murmuring of the crowd stopped instantly at Vult's command, all looking up their new employer. "You men may be green as grass, but you're Black Dogs now! That means you're part of the best damn mercenary company there ever was! We, who have triumphed on behalf of the Seven Shield Alliance time and time again against the demon scourge, welcome you new-bloods as our brothers-in-arms!"

His words were met with an uproar of cheers and applause, whose fervor only stopped when he began to speak again.

"Now, it's time to prove yourselves worthy of our name! The Dark Queen's forces are coming here, to Ostagoth, to pillage the settlement! But we won't let them! These are OUR lands, OUR people, and like hell we'll just let them shit all over what is OURS! We're not just going to win, we're going to make them regret ever being born into this world! We'll show them that WE are the true demons!"

The resounding roar of approval proved nearly deafening. The men jostled each other in their excitement, whooping and howling as adrenaline pumped through their veins. Throughout it all, however, Alistair remained silent. That did not mean that Vult's words were ineffective on the man. Alistair's reaction was subtle but no less intense than the men around him. The captain's words lit a fire in his soul, making his heart race a mile a minute. His hand tightened its grip around his spear, his knuckles turning white beneath his gauntlets. He would purge the demonic blight with his own hands.

"Black Dogs, LET'S HUNT!"

XXX

The Black Dogs were in formation, eagerly awaiting their foes to cross the horizon. They did not have to wait long, for they felt the earth rumble beneath their feet, quaking from the mass of orcs that soon came into sight. They were as monstrous as ever, easily towering over even someone of Alistair's stature and the width of two average men. Despite lacking armor, an orc's hide was thick and hard to damage. Their great strength allowed them to wield large, heavy weapons with ease. The recruits grew nervous, their earlier eagerness leaving them in droves. It was the Black Dog veterans that bolstered them, reassuring the new-bloods that they had their backs.

Alistair stood on the front lines, with Vult right in front of him. The man looked particularly bloodthirsty, grinning with excitement at the inevitable engagement. Just then, someone broke through the ranks, falling to his knees beside Vult.

"C-Captain! Enemy forces to the East!" The messenger cried through staggered breaths.

"What?!" Vult yelled at the man, who cowered before his captain.

"A-A flanking force, sir! They forded the river and hope to decimate our right flank!"

"Damn it!" Vult's gaze turned back to the enemy in front of us. They were approaching slowly, but steadily. There would be no running from them now. He turned to Alistair's battalion and barked. "You! You lot are going to intercept that flanking force!"

"W-What!?"

"We're going to face them w-without you, sir?!"

"Damn straight you are! Time to earn your pay recruits! Keep them off our backs until we finish with the main force here. You survive, you'll get a bonus! Now get going men!"

"Sir, yes sir!" The battalion cried. As they marched to intercept, Alistair took a moment to assess his battle brothers. Barely any of them were even half as armored as him. If he didn't know better, he would have thought these men mere bandits. He knew their type: The ones that joined for the glory, but with no idea exactly what hell they put themselves in. They were the kind who thought they were invincible due to the Black Dog name alone. They were the kind who died easily.

Roughly fifteen minutes passed when Alistair's battalion finally laid eyes on their target: A sizeable contingent of orcs and imps. In contrast to the towering orcs, the imps were around the size of a child. They were fast, cunning creatures that, in conjunction with the strong, yet dull orcs; made for a dangerous combination.

He could hear the men beside him attempt to swallow the lumps that had formed in their throats. Seeing the fear in the humans before them, the demons cackled and laughed. The anxiety in his battle-brothers was quickly replaced with agitation and anger. Being mocked proved a good way to bolster morale, for the battalion began howling war cries, raising their arms into the air or beating them against their shields. The imps began to scowl at the defiant humans and ordered the orcs to charge. With a ferocious roar, the orcs obeyed, stampeding towards the human forces.

With a roar of their own, the humans counter-charged, clashing with the orcs in a furious melee. Alistair used the momentum of his charge to force his spear through the throat of an orc. With a grunt, he ripped the spear out and buried it into the stomach of another. The orc yelled in pain as it swatted at Alistair, who dodged the orc's meaty limb and jumped onto the shaft of his spear. The movement jostled the spearhead inside the orc, cutting through the orc's intestines. Blinded by pain, the orc didn't see the shield strike that shattered its skull, pulverizing bone and sending the monster stumbling backwards. The dying orc fell on top of an imp, crushing the small thing beneath its weight and Alistair's.

Dislodging his spear, Alistair heard a shrill voice shouting above the roar of battle. He turned to a group of imps readying their bows in his direction. He quickly brought his shield forth, protecting him against the arrows that perforated an unintended target beside him. The imps quickly readied another volley, but the small window allowed Alistair to throw his spear at them. The impromptu missile skewered two of the imps together, eliciting a cry of fear from the surviving archers as they stared at their impaled comrades. Alistair used this opportunity to close the distance, drawing his sword and charging at the imps. Holding his longsword in a firm grip, he drove the blade in its entirety through one of the imps. He brought the sword up, watching as the imp cried in pain before brutally swinging it over his head. His sword carved through the rest of the imp's body, freeing his blade as guts and gore rained down in addition to water.

The two remaining imps awoke from their stupor and rushed to engage him. One had jumped into the air, lunging at him with a dagger. He quickly slashed at its extended arm, severing it. He followed up with a shield bash, sending his airborne foe flying back into its companion and breaking off the arrows embedded in his shield. They crumpled into a heap, the injured imp pinning the other as it held its stump, crying and yelling in hysteria at its missing limb. He approached them, watching as the pinned imp frantically tried to get its friend to move. It was too late, however, and Alistair drove his blade down into both of them.

Just as he was about to search for a new target, a human body was thrown overhead, nearly taking off his head as it flew past him and into a pair of Black Dogs. An audible 'snap' resounded, their spines breaking from the force of impact. He traced the trajectory to its origin, coming to face-to-face with another orc. It locked eyes with him, bellowing savagely as it charged at him.

Quickly grabbing his spear from the nearby carnage, he threw his shield at the charging orc's leg. The shield impacted harshly with the orc's shin, tripping it and sending it stumbling forward into Alistair's waiting spear. Its own momentum forced the spear all the way through the orc's large frame. The demon roared in pain and tried to dislodge itself from the weapon. However, the force of it falling had buried the shaft deep into the mud. The angle at which the spear penetrated was awkward, causing the orc immense pain every time it moved. Alistair brandished his blade and swung down, decapitating the orc; sending blood spraying like a broken faucet. He walked past the body, effortlessly pulling out his spear by its protruding tip. The headless corpse fell behind him with a wet 'splat', but he paid it no mind. He retrieved his shield, kicking it back into his hand.

There was a lull in the battle around him, one that immediately set off alarms in his head. Just moments before, a cacophony of sound resounded across the battlefield: The clash of blades, the battle cries, the last gasps of the dying. Now, naught but the pitter-patter of rain and the squelching of wet earth remained. Calmly, Alistair examined the state of the battle around him, confirming what he thought to be the reason for the unusual quiet.

He was the last human standing.

All the men he came with lay dead in the mud. The demons had surrounded him, braying like savage beasts. A few of the demons began to feast on the fallen, tearing limbs off the human cadavers and ripping into the fresh meat with vigor. Bloody grins were directed at Alistair, staring at him with looks of hunger and glee. They were waiting for him to despair at his hopeless situation, watching for the moment the mercenary to drop to his knees and resign himself to an ignoble death.

But that did not happen.

Instead, a glowing red erupted from Alistair's visor, his eyes burning with hatred and fury. He stared down the monstrous horde, his gaze promising agonizing retribution to every last one of them.

The demons quieted down, unsettled by the lone human they encircled. After a moment, the sea of demons parted, allowing an orc to pass through.

Alistair observed the specimen before him, noting several peculiarities. It was larger than its brethren, easily standing a good foot above the rest. Its skin, unlike the common green, was a steely blue. In its hands was a large, menacing war axe. But the thing that caught his attention the most was its eyes: They held a level of intelligence on par with an imp. Just as Alistair was examining it, the orc was doing the same to him. _'This orc must surely be their commander.'_ He thought.

It roared at him, declaring its intent to challenge him in single combat. Alistair could feel a calm settle over the area. His heart began to race, his blood began to sing! Adrenaline flooded his entire being as he locked eyes with his opponent. Slowly, surely, he raised his spear and pointed it at his enemy.

"Tu moritūrus!" His words were of an ancient language long since dead; a language passed down by his father, his father's father, and the men beyond. These words were the words of warriors that resonated with the blood in their veins. Even if it couldn't understand his words, Alistair's opponent clearly understood their intent.

The combatants charged each other, roaring ferociously. The orc swung first, hoping to cleave the mercenary in two as it had the others. Alistair quickly swung his shield, knocking the axe to the side. He thrust his spear into the orc's face, though the orc had caught it just before it had hit. It lazily snapped the spearhead from the shaft, smiling arrogantly down at the human. That smile was quickly wiped off its face as the other end of the spear came crashing into its head, shattering on impact and sending splinters into its eyes. Using its blindness to his advantage, Alistair slammed his shield's metal rim into the orc's ribs. The shield compressed and cracked beneath the force of the strike, but so did the brute's ribcage. The orc shouted in agony, doubling over with an arm covering the injury. It raised its free arm and swung its axe into the ground before it, trying to crush its foe. The orc's attack only served to launch mud into the air. It quickly looked around for its target.

"Miserum!" Face met shield in a glorious display of brutality, the orc being sent sprawling to its side. The blow had completely destroyed the top half of his shield, forcing Alistair to discard it. Seeing his opponent's axe sticking out of the earth, he grabbed its and dragged it through the mud, coming ever closer to the orc's prone form.

The orc's vision danced and blurred, blood dribbling down from its head and flowing into its right eye. Through its spotted vision, the orc saw Alistair raise its axe high above his head. At first, the orc thought that the human would behead it with its own weapon, and it closed its eyes to await its fate. To its surprise, instead of burying the axe into its neck, the mercenary had stuck it into the ground just an inch away from its face; causing even more mud to splatter onto the orc's face. Its eyes trailed up, met with the imposing form of the human. Thunder struck, illuminating his figure across the dark clouds in the sky.

The orc grew confused: Why had this human not killed it already?

"Etiam," Alistair commanded, his tone cold and merciless. The mercenary pointed down at the orc's muddied axe and repeated himself in a harsher, impatient voice. "Etiam!"

Even though orcs were hardly known for their intelligence, the orc commander could infer that the human wanted it to pick up its weapon again. It staggered to its feet, using its axe as a crutch. The orc looked around and saw the baffled and stunned expressions of its followers. It was then it realized what had just happened.

Alistair had shamed it.

The surrounding demons saw how utterly outmatched their leader was against this lone human. Their greatest warrior, completely trounced with minimal effort by their prey. The orc loathed the way its subordinates immediately looked down on it, belittled and demeaned it for losing to this human. Turning its gaze back to Alistair, the orc could not endure the final slight against it.

Alistair drew his blade, but held it down to his side with one hand. The human's stance was lax, almost bored: He didn't even consider the orc to be a threat.

The orc's vision turned red as it flew into a berserker rage. It let out a savage and primal roar, beating its meaty fists against its chest like an ape gone mad. This human would live not a second longer! Ignoring the pain its every movement caused, the orc swung its axe with a speed and strength several times greater than it had before.

Alistair calmly dodged the strike, letting it pass just in front of him as he took a step back. The orc made a swift follow-up strike with the same ferocity as the last, though again the mercenary simply stepped just a hair's breadth away from the attack. This repeated in an almost comedic dance: Swing, miss, swing, miss. The orc's fury finally reached a head, raising its axe high into the air before bringing it down with all of its might.

Alistair deftly deflected the axe, letting it skitter and spark against the flat of his sword before bashing the orc's face with his crossguard. The blow stunned the orc, giving the mercenary the chance to hack into the demon's neck. The blade dug in deeply, but not all the way through. Stepping forward and twisting his body, Alistair swung his blade around and followed through; decapitating the orc with a bloody flourish. A cascade of red dyed the muddied waters around them as the orc's liquid life spurted out of its neck and its headless body collapsed onto the blood-soaked soil.

Seeing the orc's head land by his feet, he picked it up by its scraggly hair and raised it above his head like one would a trophy. After a moment of parading the orcs head, he tossed it into the crowd of demons with a roar. "Īnfirmus!"

Shocked stares and fearful mutterings erupted from the surrounding demons. Soon enough, the encirclement grew tighter, the demons hoping to swarm him. Alistair pointed his sword forward, singling out another enemy with eyes blazing with hatred.

"Nōn superstites!"

XXX

The rain had stopped. Dark clouds dispersed as the sun's rays beamed down upon them. The Black Dogs had claimed victory over their enemies.

"Think any of them survived?" Kin asked, nursing a few injuries from their battle. It was hard-fought, and many of their recruits perished in the conflict.

Hicks gave him a look. "That battalion was almost entirely comprised of new-bloods Kin. I doubt they made it."

Vult said nothing, marching in silence. The rest of the Black Dogs followed behind, with the heavily injured returning to camp to rest and heal. They soon came upon the battlefield, noting the many bodies strewn about.

Hicks whistled at the carnage, strolling through it with his hands at his hips. "Wow, can't believe the rookies had it in them." He nudged the head of a decapitated orc with his foot, noting the steely blue color of its skin. "Damn shame they all died."

Vult paused, smiling as he playfully hit Hicks in the shoulder. "Check again Hicks. You missed one."

"Eh, wha-?" He followed Vult's gaze, landing on the armored figure sitting atop a small mountain of demon bodies. His hands were folded over each other on the pommel of his sword, his helmeted head leaning on them as if in some sort of prayer. The clouds above parted in such a way that the man was bathed in a pillar of light.

"Hey, Black Dog!" Vult called, moving closer to Alistair. The armored man's head rose and turned to regard his employer. "Get your ass down here!"

Alistair quickly slide down the mound of corpses and approached his captain. "Sir."

"You did all that?" Vult asked, head nodding towards the pile of demons.

"Yes."

"How?"

"Decapitation, impalement, blood loss through major arteries, blunt force trauma to the head." Alistair's voice remained calm and steady, as if he were talking about the weather. He glanced back at his pile. "They were weak."

"How did you survive?" Kin asked, stepping forward and eyeing the man with caution. "How is it that out of the entire battalion, you're the only survivor?"

Alistair looked down to his feet, where a fallen Black Dog lay. "They were also weak. Weaker than the demons."

Vult stared hard at the man before breaking out in raucous laughter. "So it would seem! You know, I had you pegged from the moment I saw you. You've fought before. Killed before. I could see it in your step."

"I've spent the last five years fighting the demons as a freelancer," Alistair confirmed.

Vult gave him an appraising look. "What's your name, recruit?"

"Alistair Aquila." He replied.

Hicks chuckled to the side. "That's a noble's name if I ever heard one. You a bastard?"

"No," Alistair replied quickly, but calmly.

Kin struck a thinking pose. "Wait... Aquila? Isn't that the name of that one of the original three houses?"

"Is that so?" He replied. His tone was 'matter of fact', like he had just learned a trivial piece of information. "Doesn't matter in the end. I'm a mercenary."

"No," Vult rebutted, putting his left fist on Alistair's armor. The emblem of the Black Dogs glistened proudly on his left pauldron.

"You're a Black Dog now!"

Alistair looked down at the appendage on his chest. Then, he placed his own fist on Vult's chest, echoing the sentiment.

"Yes."

XXX

**So, this is another response fic to Wimblegurk Brigade's Kuroinu Rebellion Challenge. Just happened to be scrolling through the fanfiction categories and came upon the Kuroinu archive by chance. I never would have thought it existed. Read The Irregular by Omegas Prime and was starstruck. Now, here I am.**

**Now, I decided on the Mercenary Origin and also somewhat based my character on Goblin Slayer. However, I have no intention of copying Omegas Prime's work. Not only is that plagiarism, it's downright disrespectful. **

**In that regard, I wanted to play up more of Goblin Slayer's personality in my OC, Alistair: Short, concise responses with a single-minded obsession on demon slaying. However, his fighting style is heavily inspired by the characters in For Honor, primarily from the Knight Faction. I felt that since Alistair will be fighting more than just goblins, he'd have a different style of fighting to reflect that.**

**For those of you who want to know what Alistair said during his fight, he's speaking in Latin. Translations will be listed below; as they will be for all future chapters.**

**Special thanks to TheSinful and Primordial Vortex, who were generous enough to proofread this chapter and give their insights on how to improve it.**

"**Tu moritūrus!" – "You are going to die!"**

"**Miserum!" – "Pitiful!"**

"**Etiam." – "Come on! / Keep going!"**

"**Īnfirmus!" – "Weakling!"**

"**Nōn superstites!" – "No survivors!"**

**Note that all the above translations are directly taken from the For Honor Wiki.**

**If you're interested in where this fic is going, make sure to follow. If you wanna give any criticisms, or just want to say you liked it, then please leave a review.**

**Until next time! **


	2. The Lost Son Returns

The City Fortress of Ken lay beyond the horizon, its grand architecture glowing from the setting sun. It had taken the Black Dogs three days to return the Capital of Eostia: The first day after the battle was spent burying their dead; the latter two, for travel. The men in the company were laughing and cheering after a hard-fought victory. The surviving recruits had been a bit shaken, but the Black Dog regulars had quickly comforted their new members; boosting morale through praises of bravery, strength, and courage.

Alistair himself did not participate in the revelry, though Vult and Hicks had more than made up for it.

"C'mon Al, live a little!" Hicks said, slapping the armored man's back. "People will start to think you're a Living Armor at this rate!"

"Is that so?" He replied after a moment. Hicks had taken to giving him the nickname, arguing that 'Alistair' was too long. He still wasn't used to it.

Hick's grin fell into a frown. "The hell's up with that, huh? 'Is that so?' 'I see…' 'Yes.' 'No.' 'Okay.' That's all you ever say besides your name!"

"I see…"

"You're fucking with me!"

"Calm down Hicks. It's in his blood." Kin explained. "The men of Aquila were always said to be of few words."

"Is that so?"

"… Though there must a larger vocabulary than this, surely."

"He lets his actions speak for him. That's all that matters," Vult stated. He raised his voice as they came close to the fortress's gatehouse. "Eyes up men! Once we get into the city, the first round is on me!"

A loud cheer erupted from the rank and file. The gate guards recognized the symbol and banners of the Black Dogs, and quickly allowed them entry. However, they were met with a small contingent of heavily armored guards. Two women stood at the forefront: One, a brunette wearing white plate armor—whose beauty screamed of a noble pedigree— and the other; surely the avatar of a goddess. These were the Princess Knight Claudia Levantine and High Queen Celestine Lucross, respectively.

The leaders of the Black Dogs immediately knelt before them, Hicks and Kin forcing Alistair to do the same.

"Your Highness Lucross, Knight-Commander Levantine: To what do I owe the pleasure?" Vult asked reverently.

"You may rise, Captain Vult." Celestine smiled at him. "It is good to see you in good health. I had heard that you triumphed at the battle of Ostagoth and wished to congratulate you personally."

Vult grinned. "It was nothing, Your Majesty. Our men had merely done their duty, though I regret to say that we had lost most of our newest members." He craned his head back to look at Alistair. "Though I think a wolf has emerged amongst our pups. Alistair, come here."

Alistair nodded and joined Vult at the front. The larger man clapped his recruit's armored back and sang his praises.

"This man was the lone survivor amongst his battalion, sent to intercept a flanking force that would have decimated my troops. Came out with barely a scratch on him!"

Claudia gave the mercenary an appraising look. "Impressive. Not many men survive an encounter with the Queen Discordia's forces, let alone claim victory against them."

As the knight was speaking, Celestine gazed curiously at the man before her. His aura was… familiar. It reminded her of people she had met centuries ago, during the conception of her kingdom.

"What is your name?" She asked suddenly, startling all but the addressed.

"Alistair Aquila."

Her eyes widened. "Aquila? My, I haven't heard that name in a long, long time. Your forefathers served me diligently, in centuries past." Her voice contained a hint of nostalgia and longing, as if reminiscing of an old friend.

"Is that so?"

Her smile grew brighter at his words. "You sound just like him…" She whispered.

To her side, Claudia gasped. This man was an Aquila? She had thought they had all died out several centuries ago. They, like the Levantine and Arcturus families, had served under Celestine since the beginning of her reign. They were a particularly fearsome bloodline, known for their battle prowess. To find one here, after so long…

"Do you have any more family?" Claudia asked. If they could revive such a noble lineage...

Alistair shook his head. "My family perished a decade ago. Only I remain."

Both women frowned, melancholy etched onto their faces. Claudia felt immense regret for asking the question. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"No need. I've come to terms with it long ago." His voice betrayed no emotion, no hint of sadness or longing.

There was a pause as neither party knew how to continue. It was Alistair that finally broke it.

"Is that everything?" He asked.

"… No, no it is not." Celestine's eyes met Alistair's, her emerald irises peering into the darkness of his helm. "I would have you join me in the throne room. There is something I wish to… to discuss with you."

Her words came at a surprise to all, even Claudia. "Your Majesty?"

"I will explain later," She added, both to clarify to Alistair and answer Claudia's questioning gaze. "That is, if Captain Vult does not have any objections?"

Alistair turned to Vult, seeking permission from his leader. The man's brow furrowed as if he was fighting an instinctual urge. For a moment, he seemed like he might have refused. But a single look into Celestine's eyes revealed that her question was merely a formality. Vult turned and grasped Alistair's shoulder.

"Go ahead, Alistair. Meet us at the tavern when you're done." He smiled. "Don't wanna miss the booze, after all! Take too long and we might drink it all!"

Alistair nodded and moved to accompany Celestine's entourage. The High Elf's was as bright as the sun's rays as they left. Vult frowned slightly.

Hicks voiced his concerns. "What do you think she wants with him?"

"Probably wants to give him a title." Kin offered his thoughts. "He's from an ancient noble line, after all."

Vult stared a little longer at the retreating forms of the Queen's entourage before turning about-face. "Doesn't matter. Come on, I've been sober for too long."

**-]|[-**

When they arrived at the throne room Celestine had Alistair wait at the base of the stairs leading up to her throne. Her guards spread out, each taking a position to the side of the room as if overseeing a procession. Celestine stood at the top of the stairs, in front of her throne with Claudia at her side. She gazed down at the armored man, her smile never leaving her face.

"Alistair Aquila, last son of House Aquila, come forth."

Alistair did as instructed, climbing the staircase until he was within arm's length of the High Elf. A silence ensued, as they all waited for something to happen. After a moment, Claudia cleared her throat.

"Alistair, if you could remove your helmet-"

"No." His response was swift, barely even letting the woman finish her sentence. She glared at the man, obviously upset.

"What do you mean, "No.'"?

"There could be an ambush."

"You can't be serious!?"

"I am."

"This is utterly unacceptable behavior! You are being done a service by Her Grace, Celestine Lucross! How can you be so disrespectful!?

"Claudia." The High Elf called, a nostalgic smile on her face. "It is fine. If he so wishes, he may keep his helmet on."

The Princess Knight made to object, but the words caught in her throat. In the end, she acquiesced to her queen. "As you wish, Your Highness.

Celestine turned to the knight at her side. "Claudia, your sword please."

Claudia nodded, drawing her blade and carefully presented it to her queen. The High Elf took the sword in her hands and faced Alistair.

"Please, kneel."

He did as she asked. She took a step towards him, sword brandished upwards.

"Alistair Aquila, your forefathers have served me diligently in the past. When your ancestor, Altair Aquila, fell in battle three hundred years ago, I had feared your line wiped out. But fate has smiled on us, for it has brought you into this world. Your actions during the Battle of Ostagoth have proven you worthy of continuing House Aquila's legacy."

She brought the flat of the blade down on his right pauldron. "For diligence in duty," She tapped his left. "For bravery in battle, I, Celestine Lucross, knight thee Sir Alistair. May you bring honor to your house and family, as your ancestors have.

"Please, rise."

Alistair did so, rising to his full height. It was only now that he noticed how tall he was compared to Her Highness. The tip of her head only barely reached the bottom of his chin. Yet despite this, her sheer majesty made it seem as if _he_ was looking up to _her_. This graceful beauty of supreme political and magical power had shown him an unnatural amount of favor despite having only met him recently. That begged the question…

"Why?" He asked the elf. A look of surprise showed on her visage. "Why knight someone who you've only just met? Does my surname really mean that much to you?"

It took a moment for the words to sink in before she answered, a guilty smile on her face. "It _is_ strange, isn't it? Forgive me, but… You remind me so much of Alberich."

"Another one of my ancestors?"

She nodded. "The first of your line, in fact. He was a very dear friend of mine: We were practically brother and sister. But he was a human, and I, a High Elf. By the time my body had reached adolescence, Alberich was an old man. He had sworn his family to me, in memory of our friendship. It became tradition, then, that every firstborn son of House Aquila would serve as my companion and guard.

"For my first four hundred years of life, an Aquila would always be there at my side. They were my confidants, my friends. I treasured each and every one of them greatly. It was as if Alberich had never left my side. Then…" There was a haunted look in her eyes as an ancient pain resurfaced. "Then Altair had died, without bearing a son. It was such an awful experience, losing such a comforting presence. I had mourned for years afterwards, lamenting the loss of my closest friend.

"But now you are here!" Celestine exclaimed, her sour mood disappearing in a flash. "You can continue the tradition!"

"Will my duties entail slaying demons?"

Her smile faltered a bit. "I-I suppose."

"Then I accept."

Celestine clasped her hands together in glee. "Wonderful! Then, I have a mission for you, Sir Alistair."

"Yes?"

"Tomorrow, I will send the Black Dogs to assault the Black Citadel."

"The stronghold of the demonic forces?" He asked.

She nodded, closing her eyes. "You will accompany them and may assist in the seizing of the fortress. However, _your_ main objective is Dark Queen Olga Discordia."

Her eyes opened, staring deep into his soul. "Capture Olga Discordia and bring her back to Ken, unharmed."

The High Elf's words created a lull in the conversation, the sheer difficulty of her request taking a moment for all to comprehend.

Claudia herself gawped at her queen's request. Queen Discordia was a powerful sorceress, on par with the likes of Celestine herself. In addition, the Dark Elf was well known for her immense hostility towards humankind. To capture her was a difficult feat in of itself, but to do so without violence was approaching the realm of impossibility.

"It will be done."

The conviction in his voice brokered no argument, as if he had already completed the task. Claudia could only stare at the newly anointed knight inquisitively. If Celestine had tasked her the same mission, she doubted even she could accomplish such a massive undertaking. What made him so sure of his success?

Celestine, however, could only stare upon him fondly. "I have given you an impossible task, but you accept it so readily. Why is that?"

His gaze met hers, the eyes hidden beneath his helm burning with determination.

"Queen Discordia controls the demons. If I capture her, a majority of them will be stopped." He replied simply.

He glanced above the throne, to the stained-glass window that allowed light into the room. It glared a fiery orange, signaling the sunset.

"If you have no further need me, then I will return to Vult and the Black Dogs."

"There is no need." She stated firmly. "You will stay the night and join your company in the morning."

"They will be concerned if I am absent for much longer."

"Then I will send a messenger to inform them of your stay." Her voice bore the full authority of her station. Alistair thought he saw a small flicker of panic in her eyes. "Please Alistair, I insist."

"… Very well." He relented.

Celestine smiled in satisfaction.

**-]|[-**

They had shown him to his room, though Alistair at first thought it was surely Celestine's. It was spacious, almost overly so. The décor screamed of nobility, with regally designed furniture and ornaments filling the room. Then, there were the portraits: Portraits of several different men lined the room, to the point where no matter where one turned, there would always be one staring at you. Perhaps the thing that disturbed him the most was the striking resemblance they all bore to one another. Very little changed between the paintings: armor, skin tone, eye color, hair color, and style were the only notable differences.

He noticed a mirror to the corner of the room. Walking over to it, he slowly removed his helmet. He peered into the mirror, looking at his reflection.

"Hmm..."

As expected, the face that stared back was his own.

The very same face on every portrait in this room.

If Alistair had any doubts about his lineage, they were dispelled immediately from this observation. He looked at the plaques that labeled each portrait.

'_Altair. Alain. Alamar. Alexander. Alphinaud. Alarius. Alto. Albion. Alaric…'_ He came upon the grandest painting in the room, the one which lay above the headrest of the bed.

"…Alberich." He whispered. The man who started it all. Of all his ancestors, it was this one who was his spitting image. Sharp, angular features; and a strong jawline. High cheekbones beneath crimson red eyes. Sleek, silver hair framed his face, falling no longer than his earlobes.

Someone knocked on his door. "Alistair? It's Celestine. I've brought you a change of clothes."

Quickly donning his helm, he crossed the room and opened the door. In her arms was a neatly folded pile of sleepwear. She greeted him with a big smile on her face.

He thanked her as he took the clothing from her. "I'm surprised you didn't send a servant to perform such a menial task."

"Well… I was hoping to personally confirm your comfort. Is everything to your liking?"

"The portraits are a bit unsettling." He said frankly. She peered into the room, her lips parting in a small 'o' as she saw the many portraits hung on the walls.

"O-Oh. Right. I suppose I've forgotten to have them taken down." She paused, taking a deep breath as she began to reminisce. "This was the Aquila family's bedroom suite. When we thought your bloodline extinct, we hung up the portraits of each Aquila who served at my side in memory of their duty."

"I see…"

"… Dinner is almost ready." She said, abruptly changing the topic of conversation. "Would you care to join me? It will be a private affair, as the only other person would be Claudia."

Alistair's stomach spoke for him, a small grumbling resonating from the man.

"Splendid!" She twirled around, motioning for him to follow. Alistair silently fell into step behind the High Elf, using the opportunity to examine her more closely. Her silky blonde tresses cascaded down her back, ending nearly at her ankles. He was surprised she kept it so long: Such a mass of hair must have weighed heavily, and its length begged the question of how she didn't trip herself with it. Her wide hips peeked out from the sides, as did her breasts. The gods have truly blessed her with such an alluring form.

It was a short walk to Celestine's quarters, though that was to be expected. His forefathers were her personal guards, so it made sense that their rooms were so close. She gently opened the door and ushered him in. He quickly took in his surroundings.

It was not too dissimilar from his own room, just taken up several notches. The space was nearly twice as large as his own quarters, with far more ornaments and royal décor. There was only one portrait, however, which he was somewhat glad for. It was hung above the bed's headrest and…

'_Ah. It's him again.'_ He thought, staring at the face of Alberich once more. The man in this portrait seemed a bit laxer than he had in the last, dressed far more casually in typical noble garb. There were two anomalies that caught his eye, however: Two young girls stood by his side, one to each leg and neither coming higher than his waist.

They were obviously not the man's daughters; their long, pointed ears indicative of a pureblooded elven heritage. The one at Alberich's right was a pale blonde with emerald green eyes._'Celestine.'_ He determined quickly. The other girl was much darker than her counterpart: Honey-brown skin, black hair, and amber eyes. All three of the figures were smiling happily.

"Alistair," a voice called, breaking Alistair from his thoughts. Celestine was sat at a small table with Claudia, who looked at him curiously. The High Elf gestured to an open seat. "Please, take a seat."

He did so, eyes roaming over the small spread of food that awaited him: wine, a cheese platter, and bread, with a few slices of meat. Noticing that both women had already begun to eat, he helped himself to a small portion. He noticed both women staring at him intently.

"Is something the matter?" He asked. Claudia gave him an incredulous look.

"Yes, there is! Don't tell me you plan to eat with your helm on!?"

"I do."

"You're ridiculous!" The Princess Knight exclaimed; her exasperation evident. A flash of irritation also graced Celestine's features, but the High Elf said nothing in protest. Alistair lifted his faceplate and began to eat. The two women chatted for a bit, allowing the sole man in their company to appease his appetite.

Celestine turned to him after a moment. "I'm curious Alistair…" There was a mischievous glint in her eye. "Potes intelligere me?"

The knight visibly tensed at her words. "Tu scis latine?" He asked quietly.

She smiled. "Paulo."

Claudia looked between the two, confused. "Your Grace?"

"Alistair can speak the ancient tongue." The queen answered, not turning to face her. "I'm glad to see it was not lost with Altair."

"My father taught me as his father taught him." He explained. "We never knew why we did it, just that it had to be done."

"Was your father also a mercenary?" Claudia asked.

He shook his head. "He was a farmer. His weapons were the sickle and hoe; his enemy, the harvest. He never once took up a tool of war."

He paused, eyes closing as a memory flashed to the fore.

**-]|[-**

_His father stood before him, clothes stained crimson from both his blood and the demons. Ichor dripped from the sickle in his hand. Behind him, a demon was pinned to the wall with a pitchfork._

"_Son? Are you all right?"_

**-]|[-**

His eyes opened once more. "He could handle himself in a fight, however."

"What kind of people were your parents?" Celestine continued, bombarding him with questions. "What were their names? Did you have any siblings?"

Alistair took a breath to compose himself. "My father, Alaire, was a quiet man. He often let his actions speak for him. He was kind, diligent, and patient: A paragon that all men should strive to be. My mother, Laura, was strong and firm. She was always hard on you but gave you praise when you deserved it. She was honest and spoke her mind regardless of other's opinions. A loving wife and mother.

"No siblings: There were complications after my birth that had rendered my mother barren. They never blamed me though, and made sure to love me enough for the children that never were. I… I miss them greatly."

The women shared a look between them. Claudia drew his attention.

"Sir Alistair," Claudia said in a quiet tone. "You're crying."

The knight stiffened. His raised faceplate allowed them to see the lower half of his face, and tears that trailed down his cheeks. He reached into his helm to wipe at his tears and examined his wettened hand. Alistair's mouth parted slightly, as astonished by the sight as his companions.

"Ah… I suppose I am." He agreed. "It has been years since I've last thought of my parents."

"Are you going to be okay, Alistair?" Celestine questioned, already moving to rise out of her seat. Alistair raised a hand to stop her.

"I will be fine. The memories…" His lips stretched into a beautiful smile. "They are good ones."

Both women held smiles of their own as they found just how well the look suited Alistair. They continued to ask more about his parents, and he happily indulged them. He recounted tales of his childhood, of the story of how his parents met. He laid bare his history, Alistair speaking more in that single night than he had in years.

And he found that he quite enjoyed it.

**-]|[-**

_He dreamt of darkness._

_Water dripped from the cave ceiling at a steady pace, almost like a metronome. He laid on the ground, beaten and bruised. Welts littered his body, painting his pale skin an angry red. He tried to rise, his body shaking in protest. A voice echoed throughout the cavern._

"_Demons are strong, terrifying beasts. They're merciless, cruel. Do you really think you'll be able to kill one?" It asked teasingly._

"_I will." He replied, his conviction coating the words in full._

_The voice broke out into laughter. "A little snot-nosed brat like you? HA!"_

_A stone was flung from the shadows, catching him in the forehead. A gasp of pain left his lips as he fell backwards._

"_A coward like you, who could only hide as your father sacrificed himself for his child. You, who abandoned his parents to their fate! What a pathetic son!" The voice taunted him as he pushed himself up. Blood dripped to the ground in tandem with the water._

"_I w-will avenge them." Another stone impacted his body, hitting his throat. He gagged and retched, spittle flying. Water hit the ground again._

"_HOW?!" The voice shrieked. "You are weak. Untested. You bray and bark for vengeance and blood but when the time comes, you'll tuck your tail between your legs and run! Do you think anything will change with just a bit of power?! A coward with strength is just a strong coward!"_

_A fist pressed itself against his chest. He stared up into yellow eyes, a lucid madness swirling within them._

"_Only you can make a choice. Whatever it is, if you make it and act on it…" A drop of water landed on his head._

"_You win."_

**-]|[-**

He awoke to light.

The sun had risen over the horizon, peering through his window to warm his skin. Alistair sat up, the sheets rustling beneath him as he moved. He got off the bed and changed into his armor with practiced ease. Folding his borrowed sleepwear in a neat pile on his bed, the knight grabbed his gear and left his room. He passed a few servants who scurried to perform their morning duties. One stepped into his path, looking quite nervous as she did so.

"P-Pardon me Sir Alistair, but Her Highness Lucross wishes to see you off personally. She awaits your presence in the throne room."

"I see…" He nodded his thanks and set off. Just as the maid said, Celestine sat patiently on her throne. She visibly brightened at his appearance.

"Good morning, Alistair. I hope you slept well."

"I did." He said with a nod. "The bed was very comfortable."

She smiled. "I'm glad to hear that. Are you going to meet up with Captain Vult then?"

"That's right."

"Then, before you leave," She rose from her throne and approached him. She held something her hand. "Please take this."

It was a shard of crystal, large enough to fill his palm. He gently took it from her hands. "What does it do?"

"It's a tele-stone," She explained. "This stone will allow us to communicate no matter the distance between us. I wish for you to keep me abreast of your situation as you travel."

"Hmph." He grunted, pocketing the stone in a pouch on his belt. "I'll be sure to give you a daily report. Will that be all?"

"One more thing." She closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his torso. The embrace gave him pause, but he slowly returned it, albeit awkwardly. She pressed her face tightly against his breastplate, snuggling into his arms and basking in his warmth.

"Please come back safe." She whispered.

"I will try my best."

They held each other for a moment before Celestine reluctantly released her knight. A sad smile greeted him. "Then, I wish you luck."

"Thank you, Your Grace. Farewell."

**-]|[-**

Alistair met up with Vult at the tavern, the Captain looking somewhat disgruntled.

"I heard you've been knighted," Vult said. Seeing Alistair nod, he sighed. "Well good for you. It's an honor not many people experience."

"You don't sound particularly happy about it." Alistair pointed out.

Vult shook his head. "I just don't like it when nobles try to order my men around. You're a Black Dog, not a lap dog. I don't want them to take advantage of you."

"Is that so?" The newly anointed knight asked.

"It is." He confirmed with a nod. "Anyhow, we've got a new assignment."

"I've already been told: We'll be assaulting the Black Citadel."

Vult hummed in affirmation. "That's right. I've already got Hicks and Kin organizing the company for the march. It'll take about a week with good weather."

Alistair patted the satchel swung over his shoulder. "I'm ready to go."

The Captain smiled. "Good to hear. Come on, I bet Kin would want to get back to his books."

Alistair fell in step behind the man, mentally preparing himself for the conflict to come.

The Black Dogs were on the hunt.

**-]|[-**

_**Codex Entry: Alaire Aquila**_

_**Notable Relations: Son of Albern Aquila, Husband of Laura Bodewig, Father of Alistair Aquila.**_

_**Alaire lived a content life as a farmer, inheriting the farmstead from his father. He performed many odd jobs around the village whenever they popped up, free of charge. His neighbors always praised the man's diligence and kindness, always going out of his way for everyone's benefit.**_

_**Alaire had met his wife when she stumbled onto his property, heavily injured and near death. He nursed her back to health, and they fell in love. They married a year later and were known to be the happiest couple in the village. Their son Alistair was born the year after.**_

_**Alaire and his wife died in a demon attack, protecting their son from the carnage.**_

**-]|[-**

**A/N: Hey there guys. Thank you for your support so far. Knowing that I was able to garner any sort of interest really helps to keep me going.**

**So, from now on, I'm gonna add a small codex entry for each of Alistair's ancestors. Just some extra lore for fun! (And padding word count ;P) Tell me what you think of them, aight?**

**Translations:**

"**Potes intelligere me?" – "Can you understand me?"**

"**Tu scis latine?" – "You speak Latin?"**

"**Paulo." – "A little bit."**


	3. The Siege of the Black Citadel

The journey to the Black Fort was rather uneventful for the first three days, and the fourth day was turning out to be little different. They'd finally entered forested terrain, taking refuge from the harsh rays of the summer sun that had beset them the days before. Many of the soldiers sighed in relief once they entered the shade of the thick foliage.

Cautious of the limited visibility offered by their surroundings, Vult sent Alistair and Hicks with a small contingent of men to scout the path ahead for any signs of danger. It hadn't even been half an hour before he heard several shrill, inhuman shrieks echo throughout the forest. Several minutes later, the scouting party returned; mostly unscathed save for the bloodied forms of the party's leaders.

Vult raised a brow in curiosity. "The hell happened to you two?"

"There was a skirmish with an enemy scouting party," Alistair reported.

Hicks scoffed. "A skirmish? Is that what you call it? Fucking hell, you massacred them!"

"They were merely goblins."

"Mere- They were led by a fucking champion!"

"Again, merely goblins."

Vult crinkled his nose in disgust. "Ugh, no wonder you smell like shit. Rubbed yourselves down with goblin guts, did ya?"

"No fucking choice," Hicks grumbled. "Al already started rubbing me down with the shit after we found the first one." He turned to glare at the knight. "You couldn't have just waited to regroup with the rest of the men?"

"No time. Had to be us. No guarantee that anyone else would've survived."

"Enough!" Vult yelled impatiently. "Did you find anything else?"

Alistair shook his head. "No traps, and no signs of any other demons forces. We should remain cautious regardless."

Hicks nodded in agreement. "When there's a scouting force, there's an army they report to. I'll tell everyone to be on their guard."

"After you clean that shit off of you," Vult commanded with a grimace. "No one wants to smell that shit when they don't have to."

Hicks snapped off an exaggerated salute before walking off to wash off all the blood and gore, Alistair following not far behind. As Alistair passed by Vult, the larger man punched his shoulder. "Good job, pup."

Alistair simply nodded. "My pleasure, Captain."

**-]|[-**

On the fifth day, the Black Dogs had encountered some resistance

"Al! To your right!" Hicks yelled over the roar of battle, kicking away an imp.

"Understood!" Alistair shouted, ripping his blade out of his current victim and bashed the pommel into an orc's face.

Their company was ambushed sometime around dusk, when they had already been tired from a long day of marching. A multitude of imps, orcs, and ogres charged into their marching line, engaging the company's rearguard. Thankfully the men knew to expect such a surprise due to Hick's discovery, but that didn't change the fact that they were fatigued.

Dispatching his foe quickly, Alistair was forced to roll out of the way of a giant tree trunk. The impact caused the ground to shake and sent debris into the air. Rolling to his feet, he saw that his new opponent was an ogre. It towered above even an orc, with angry purple skin and bulging muscles; sporting two large horns that threatened to gore its enemies. It roared savagely at him and swung its makeshift club again, sweeping in a wide arc that took out both friend and foe alike.

The knight slid under the attack, and just as the ogre's hand passed over him; he hacked off its thumb. He was bathed in black ichor, and his ears rang with the force of the demon's cry of pain. The tree trunk was sent flying into an unfortunate orc, who was crushed by the unrefined caber.

"Hicks!" Alistair shouted, hoping his companion could hear him over the various roars and screams of the melee.

An orc ran into his vision then, with Hicks riding on its shoulders and daggers buried into its back. The rogue slit the orc's throat and hopped down in front of the knight, panting slightly as he also stared down the ogre. "I'm here. Got a plan to take that thing down?"

Alistair brought his longsword up. "You go high, I'll go low."

"Sounds good to me!" Hicks yelled. The two men charged the giant demon, who had regained its bearings. It roared, swinging downwards with its large fists to try to crush the two humans. They easily dodged, however, as Hicks nimbly jumped onto one of the ogre's arms and continued to run up it. Howling a battle cry, Hicks lunged at the ogre's face and stabbed both of his daggers into the demon's eyes. Alistair, meanwhile, had carved into the ogre's ankles; severing the tendons and ligaments that supported its massive weight.

The demon stumbled forward, falling to its knees and roaring in agony. Hicks quickly jumped down as the ogre grabbed at its face; both in an attempt to crush him and to cover its horribly damaged eyes. Alistair jumped on its back, turning his blade around and grasping his sword firmly with both hands. With a victorious yell, the knight plunged his blade into the base of the ogre's neck, slipping right between its vertebrae and severing its spinal cord.

The ogre gave out a final death rattle, collapsing to the ground. The tremor that followed drew the eyes of all nearby combatants. The Black Dogs howled victory, their morale significantly boosting at the sight. Conversely, the morale of the demon forces plummeted upon seeing one of their most powerful fighters conquered by two measly humans. This was compounded with a second tremor further up the line: A second ogre had fallen to Vult's blade, rallying the men to reinforce their rear. In the end, fear overtook the ambushers and they began to flee.

**-]|[-**

The demons were routed, many slain as they ran back into the surrounding foliage. Vult decided not to pursue, instead urging his Black Dogs to press forward just a bit longer. The mercenaries gathered their dead and proceeded out of the forest, utterly exhausted from the day's events. They made camp a mile out from the forest entrance, unpacking their stores of food first and foremost.

Several fires were lit, and the men broke off into their own little cliques. Alistair joined Vult, Hicks, and Kin at theirs, all four men sitting in the cardinal directions.

Hicks savagely bit off a piece of jerky, sighing in relief as his stomach quieted a bit. "What a right mess today was."

"You told them to be on their toes," Kin said, taking a deep gulp of water from his flask. His throat was sore from shouting a multitude of incantations and spells. "We always knew it was a possibility, especially after finding that scout."

"It doesn't matter if you see a punch coming if you can't react to it." Hicks countered.

"Still, we lost less than I thought we would," Vult said through a mouthful of bread. "Thirty men killed from the projected sixty."

"And many more in wounded," Kin added, a sad look in his eyes. "Leeroy lost his sword arm: Damn thing was turned to mush by one of the ogres."

"He still has an arm left." Alistair pointed out. "The important thing is he's still alive to continue fighting."

Vult nodded. "Dead men can't get vengeance. I'm sure he'll fight even harder now."

"Speaking of vengeance…" Hicks trailed off, turning to Alistair. "You really hate demons, don't you, Al?"

"Is it so strange to hate such despicable creatures?"

"No," Hicks conceded, "But there's hate, and then there's _hate_."

"Is that so?"

"Al, I saw you feed an orc its own intestines."

"It looked hungry." The knight's words caught his companions off guard, sending them into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

Kin was the first to calm down. "Ha! Did the stoic Alistair just tell a joke?"

"It's the end of the world!" Hicks gasped for breath.

"Is that how it is?" Alistair asked, smiling beneath his helm.

Vult nodded with a smile. "It is.

Hicks finally recovered from his hysteria. "Hah, man, that was good. Fine, don't tell us."

"That's a shame. I was hoping for a story." Kin joked.

The resident rogue smiled. "Well, since _someone,_" He gave an exaggerated nod towards the knight. "-doesn't wanna share, I guess I can tell one. In fact, I'd think you'd like this one, Al."

"Is that so?"

"Yep. You guys ever heard of the Demon Slayer?"

"What, you mean that folktale that popped up a few years ago?" Vult queried.

Hicks nodded in affirmation. "That's the one. Don't spoil it now captain."

Vult hummed in amusement as his friend began to tell his tale.

"Before the Black Dogs became the legends they are today, the demonic horde was unmatched and unchecked. They flooded into the human lands, ransacking villages and raping the women. High Queen Lucross and her Princess Knights did all they could to fight against them, but even they could not fully stem the demonic tide. All who did not live near one of the seven City Fortresses were left to their fate.

"One of these doomed settlements was Riverfell. The town was attacked by the great minotaur, Tauren the Torturer, and his horde. All was thought lost upon the sight of his army, but then a lone man, clad in armor, stood before the man-bulls. The demons had laughed, thinking that the human was meant as tribute; meant to whet their appetites and beg for mercy. But before Tauren had time to react, the man had already removed the minotaur's head from its shoulders.

"The horde that followed Tauren charged at the man, but they too were cut down. Then, wordlessly, the armored man wandered off without reward. He appeared again at Oakvale, where he had rescued the local village girls from a goblin nest. He was there at Lute to stop Loki the Imp, and cleared the Great Swamp of the ogres that made it their home.

"This man became known as Demon Slayer, the one man who the demons feared. It was he who brought the demons to heel when the Princess Knights could not. No matter the reward, no matter the danger, he would slay any demons he came across: From the lowest of goblins to the largest of ogres, and everything in between; all would fall to Demon Slayer.

"There were rumors about his true identity, for his visage was always covered by his helm. Some say he was the lone survivor of a battle against the demons, who lived to avenge his comrades. Others say he's no man at all, but a demon who turned on its brothers to atone for its sins. There are even claims stating he was a wraith, the vengeful vessel of all who have died at the demons' hands.

"Only one singular truth can be agreed upon: The Demon Slayer will never stop his crusade until the entire world is rid of demons, once and for all."

Hicks finished his story with a bow, earning the applause of all within earshot.

"You're a good storyteller Hicks." Vult praised. "But I liked the musical version better."

"Bah!" The rogue scoffed, taking a swig of his drink. "Everyone's a critic."

"It's a shame no one knows how to get in contact with this Demon Slayer." Kin said thoughtfully. "We could use a warrior like him in our ranks."

Vult grunted in agreement. "It's not like I haven't tried. You know I've sent scouts trying to find a lead on him. No one even knows his name. Hell, we don't even know if Demon Slayer actually exists."

The warrior turned to Alistair. "You know anything about the guy, Alistair?"

The knight shook his head. "This is the first time I've heard of this story."

Vult sighed. "Figures."

Alistair finished the last of his meal, having the rest of it during the story, and stood up. "I'm going to bed. Good night everyone."

The three leaders of the Black Dog mercenaries wished him the same, watching as Alistair disappeared into his tent. Hicks leaned over to Vult, a thought suddenly on his mind.

"Hey Vult, didn't Al say that he worked as a freelancer before joining us?"

Vult raised a brow at Hick's question. "Yeah, what of it?

"You don't think he's…"

"You think he's the Demon Slayer?" Kin finished for the rogue. The mage shook his head in disbelief. "Impossible. Alistair is a good fighter, but there's no way he could have done all that."

"But he took down an ogre-"

"With your help." Vult reminded him. "Demon Slayer took down multiple ogres single-handedly. Hell, _I _took down an ogre by myself."

Hicks looked back over to Alistair's tent, then sighed in defeat. "Yeah, you're right. Guess I was more tired than I thought."

**-]|[-**

Alistair sat on his bedroll, pulling out his Tele-stone. He had to give his daily report to Celestine. "Your Grace, I'm ready to give you my report of today's events."

The crystal in his hand glowed faintly as Celestine's voice responded. "Good evening, Sir Alistair. You may begin."

"As expected, we were ambushed near the end of today's march. Casualties were below expectations."

"That is good to hear. Did you sustain any injuries, my knight?" She asked in concern.

"None."

"Thank goodness!" She sounded relieved, as she had every other time when asking about his well-being. He continued with his report.

"The ambush had not significantly slowed us down. We will still be arriving at the Black Citadel within two days' time."

"Excellent. Is there anything else?"

"I was told a story. About the folk hero called Demon Slayer."

"Ah, yes. A relatively new one that's been quite popular nowadays. Does it interest you?"

"Somewhat. There are some exaggerations, but it's been mostly accurate." Like how he felled an entire army of minotaurs. Tauren had only attacked with a small band of five, including itself. Then how he cleansed the Great Swamp of ogres: By the time he got there, some strange creature with a pet donkey had already dealt with the demons.

"Oh? Are you a witness to the feats of Demon Slayer then?"

"Something like that."

There was a pause. "How are you feeling, Alistair?" Celestine asked.

"Fatigued. Anxious."

"Then go ahead and sleep. Rest your weary mind and body."

"I will. Good night, Your Highness."

He could hear her smile, if that was even possible. "Sweet dreams, my knight."

**-]|[-**

The company did not meet any more resistance from the demons. Rather, they fought the very land itself. The blackened earth and foliage of the Badlands brought a feeling of dread and unease. The water here was toxic, finding it bordering acidic when one of the Black Dogs accidentally dropped their shield into one of the many pools: The piece of equipment had near-instantly corroded and rotted to foam. A few mindless beasts had attacked them, rabid and crazed with corruption. On the seventh day, they had finally arrived at their destination.

The Black Citadel stood tall and imposing, blacksteel walls jutting out of the ground and converging on a spire with a large crystal at the very top. A dark miasma swirled around it, dense and suffocating. The very sight of it drained the morale of the Black Dogs: There would be no chance of breaking down the walls; they would have to either scale them with ladders and siege towers or break down the large metal gates.

The Black Dogs spent the next three days building siege equipment, finishing in record time thanks to only having to assemble the constructs with premade materials. Soon, two siege towers were erected alongside a large battering ram. The head of the ram was capped with a steel dog's head, in the likeness of the Black Dog's coat-of-arms.

The assault had begun on the eleventh day.

"To the walls men! Let nothing stand in your way!" Vult roared, pointing his greatsword at the fortress. Their constructs of war groaned and creaked as they were pushed towards the Citadel's walls. Many demons stood atop the ramparts, launching arrows and boulders at the Black Dog's siege engines. Above them, gargoyles hovered and shrieked as they swooped down upon the humans, creating disarray in their rank; carrying off Black Dogs and dropping them from the clouds. The flying demons were a menace to the human forces: Their stone-like hide shattered arrows on impact, and they moved too fast to be hit with most spells. They wielded a variety of polearms, and were naturally gifted with large, sharp claws and bladed tails.

One such demon landed in front of Alistair, crushing a man beneath its feet and killing him on impact. It screamed at him, lunging at the knight with its poleaxe. Alistair easily deflected the blow and swung for the gargoyle's neck. His longsword shattered against its hide, sending metal fragments scattering through the air. It turned, grinning at Alistair with a toothy and arrogant smile. Said smile was very quickly lost as the knight drove the remains of his blade into the demon's right eye, making it shriek in pain and fury.

It tripped the knight with its tail, sending him sprawling to the ground. Alistair quickly rolled to the side, the bladed segment of the gargoyle's tail cutting deeply into the space he previously occupied. Scrambling to his feet, he dove at the corpse of demon's previous victim and looted its armaments: A heater shield and flail. Alistair turned to face his opponent, the flanged ball of his flail dangling ominously. The gargoyle finally tore out the broken sword from its face, copious amounts of blood spilling from the wound; and whipped around like the rabid beast it was, snarling at the human before it.

It launched itself high into the air, then dove at the knight with its poleaxe extended, fully intent on running him through. Alistair waited until the last possible moment to dodge, letting the gargoyle zoom past him. However, just as it passed, the winged demon swung its tail to the side and landed a heavy blow on the knight. The axe-like tip struck Alistair's hastily raised shield, launching the man off his feet and after the demon's wake.

Alistair hit the ground in a roll, coming to a stop just a few feet away from the gargoyle. It lunged at him again, pushing off the ground with its powerful legs and a flap of its wings.

The knight was ready this time, however.

Just as the gargoyle was upon him, Alistair sidestepped the tip of its poleaxe and whipped his flail into the demon's face. The flanged head struck the gargoyle's snout with the force of the creature's own momentum, completely decimating its facial structure and forcing it off course. The demon tumbled to the ground in a crash landing, kicking up a large cloud of dust as its body created a deep furrow in the earth.

Alistair jogged up to crash site, shield raised protectively in front of him. The dust cleared swiftly, revealing the gargoyle's kneeling form. Black ichor dripped heavily from its head, its face completely malformed from the force of impact. The Black Dog could hear the demon's labored breathing and saw how it struggled to raise itself to its feet.

He began to swing his flail in a circular motion, the metal ball quickly accelerating to a breakneck pace as Alistair approached the dying demon. As soon as he was in range, Alistair swung down at the gargoyle's cracked cranium. The winged demon's stone-hard skin did not protect it this time, its head cracking and crumbling under the force of the blow. The rest of its body began to petrify, turning fully into stone as the demon breathed its last. Alistair regarded his opponent for the final time before mercilessly crushing the newly created statue to pieces. He turned back to the battle at hand.

One of the siege towers had been destroyed and set alight, the men inside jumping off the burning construct to escape the flames, even if it meant death by gravity. The other had successfully managed to reach the wall, Black Dogs howling and shouting as they fought the demons for control of the ramparts. The ram had also reached its target. The dog-head siege engine slamming into the gates repeatedly, a loud ringing accompanying each impact. A visible dent could be seen where the ram hit the gates. It would not be long until they were forced open.

Suddenly, the ram had stalled mid-swing, gears and chains groaning in protest as the operators tried to force it to work. The knight turned his attention towards the roof of the construct, where another gargoyle had forced its bident into the ram's mechanisms. He quickly ran towards the construct, climbing the ladder that led to the top of the machine. The demon did not hear him come up due to the various sounds of battle, allowing Alistair to blindside it with a swing of his flail.

The flanged ball punctured and cracked the gargoyle's face but did not kill it. It did, however, send it staggering backwards, away from its weapon. Alistair quickly removed the bident from its home in the ram's gears, freeing the mechanisms that allowed the ram to swing. The loud ringing of the ram striking the gate resumed in full. The knight immediately turned his attention back to his foe. The demon was still dazed from his first strike, so it did not notice the human charge at it with his shield raised.

With a furious yell, he drove the rim of his shield into the gargoyle's skull, staggering the creature further and sending it to the floor. It whimpered weakly in pain, barely conscious of the sound of an accelerating chain whipping through the air. The business end of the flail brutally crashed down on the demon's head, sending stone, bone, and ichor soaring.

The ram struck the gate one last time, sending the metal doors flying inwards. The Black Dogs roared in triumph as they flooded through the breach, quickly overwhelming the defending demons. Alistair looked upon the scene curiously.

'_We should not be overwhelming them so easily. Where are all the demons?'_ He thought in confusion. While it was true that the Black Dog mercenaries were a particularly large company—large enough to be called an army in its own right—they should not have so easily won against such a well-fortified fortress such as the Black Citadel. '_Even if there were more troops within the castle interior, they would have all rushed out once our siege engines got to the walls. Unless…'_ He looked upon the menacing spire, the crystal above glinting against the sun's rays.

'… _There was hardly a garrison left._'

**-]|[-**

Alistair rushed through the castle interior with a small contingent of Black Dog veterans led by Vult. Hicks and Kin were left with the rest of the army to clean up any demons that remained outside. Soldiers splintered off into pairs as they ran down the corridor, fighting against the few defenders that remained. Soon, it was just him and Vult.

"Something isn't right," Alistair said as they ran. "There are too few demons here."

"Hey, I'm not complaining!" Vult laughed. "That just proves that Olga never expected us to make it this far! What a stupid woman!"

Alistair said nothing more. Suddenly, the stone beneath them shifted. Both of their combat instincts screamed at them to move, and they dove away from each other. The spot they previously occupied was soon skewered with metal spikes. The spikes did not retract, closing off the corridor and separating the two men.

"Vult!" Alistair cried in alarm.

"I'm fine!" The warrior yelled. Alistair could see the frustrated look on his captain's face. "Go on ahead to the throne room! I'll meet you there!"

The knight didn't argue, giving a slight grunt before doing just as ordered. He soon came upon a set of double doors, made of the same blacksteel as the Citadel's walls. He didn't dare waste any more time. With a grunt, he barreled through the doors, parting them with a loud 'clang' as they bounced against the walls.

"How barbaric." A cool, demeaning voice remarked. He glanced upwards, letting his eyes fall on the magnificent ruler of the Black Citadel: Olga Discordia, Queen of the Dark Elves, sat upon her throne. She glared down at him from her seat. "Did humanity fall so low as to forget how to use doors?"

Alistair heard the tales of Queen Discordia's beauty, but only now realized how true the gossip was. If he had to compare, then he could safely say that the only woman who could match the Dark Elf in a contest of beauty would be Celestine Lucross herself. A body, surely sculpted by the gods in their image, barely covered with black and purple cloth. Long, silky black hair fell down her back, coming as low as her ankles. Sharp amber eyes stared through his soul and deemed him unworthy.

"To think, after all this effort of besieging my home, your people sent a single man to confront me. I would be insulted if I wasn't so amused by your stupidity." She mocked. She turned her head to the side. "What do you think, Chloe?"

A movement at the edge of his vision caught his eye. Another dark elf, this one with blonde hair tied up into a tail, with a long bang covering her face, emerged from the shadows. Her body was lithe but supple; her modesty barely covered with leather and blue cloth. She moved silently but purposefully, tensed for combat. He barely noticed the hilts of daggers sticking out of her boots. With her confident posture, he deduced that she was just no less lethal without them than with.

"I, too, find it hilarious that humans could be so foolish, My Queen." The blonde responded, maroon eyes staring loathingly at him.

Olga's voice echoed as she addressed Alistair once more. "Well, human, you've finally reached me. Are you going to strike me down? Avenge your worthless comrades?"

"No." In a move that shocked both Dark Elves, the knight tossed his weapon to the ground. "I came to capture you." He said truthfully.

Chloe bared her teeth at his words. "Like I'd ever let you lay a hand on Her Highness! You've already seen how hopeless it is, haven't you? That's why you tossed away your weapon!"

Alistair shook his head. "I'm entering a battle of diplomacy. The only weapons I need are my words." With his gaze transfixed on Olga, he began his approach. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chloe reach for her weapons and prepare to lunge at him. Just before she attacked, he stopped at the base of the staircase and genuflected before Olga. This action further befuddled the Dark Elves, who looked upon the man curiously.

The knight began to speak. "Queen Discordia, I have been sent by the Queen of High Elves, Celestine Lucross, to take you back to the White Citadel of Ken unharmed. I ask that you please surrender yourself to my custody, so that I may bring you before Queen Lucross."

Olga's eyes narrowed. She could sense no lie in the man's words, yet she had her doubts. "Suppose I do as you say and surrender, what will happen once we arrive? Your queen and people would have me tried for crimes against humanity. I would meet my death and humiliation there."

"I promise you that is not the case. Queen Lucross merely wishes to make amends and discuss peace."

A look of incredulity crossed her visage. "Peace? After several hundred years of war, she wants peace!?" Olga shouted in rage. "She gave elven lands to the humans time and time again. Our sacred ancestral lands, desecrated by human filth! You humans are always so greedy, never satisfied with what you're given. That's why your kind always waged war, be it on the other races or yourselves: You keep asking for more, and when you don't get your way, you take it by force!"

"But don't you think this war has gone on long enough?" Alistair asked beseechingly.

He heard Chloe scoff to the side, while Olga threw her head back in cruel laughter. "This war will continue until your species is wiped from existence."

His next words immediately drew their ire. "The Dark Elves are more likely to go extinct than humanity."

"What arrogance!" Chloe growled.

"Not arrogance," He countered. "But the truth. Since the beginning of this conflict, the Dark Elf population has steadily declined, whereas humanity's is still quite numerous in comparison. You forget that the High Elves, Halflings, and many of the beastmen tribes fight alongside humanity. Your people, on the other hand, fight alone. You have no allies to rely on, no time for relief; for the burden of this war lies solely upon your shoulders. "

Olga gave him a contemptuous stare. "I have the armies of demonkind under my control. They are the only aide necessary to crush your weak and pitiful race."

Passion ignited upon hearing her rebuttal. "The demons only fight for you under fear of death. The moment you show weakness, they will turn on you; as they are wont to do. Do you not tire of constantly fearing a mutiny at their hands? Do you not miss having people you can rely on?"

He stood up, eyes brimming with determination as he locked gazes with the Dark Elf Queen. "Do you not miss Celestine?"

His words caused her to recoil slightly before anger consumed her being. "And what would you know of my relationship with her?" She spoke coldly as she pointed her staff at him. The tip of the staff began to glow dangerously, ready to release a lethal spell at her command. "Be warned that I will obliterate you if I do not like your words."

"I know that you two used to be close friends since childhood." As he spoke, he unlatched his helmet.

"I know that you shared a friend, one who you've also known since birth."

He lifted the helm from his head, baring his face to her.

"His name…"

Silver hair fell to his ears, matted by his helmet. Crimson red eyes met her amber ones with a steadfast gaze.

"Was Alberich Aquila."

She gasped in shock, her staff dropping out of her now lax grip; the spell within dissipating harmlessly as the glow faded. She brought her hands up to cover her mouth, her eyes wide as saucers as she began to tear up.

"… A-Alberich?" She whispered in a shaky voice.

"My Queen?" Chloe asked worriedly. Her words fell on deaf ears as Olga rose from her throne, slowly walking down the flight of steps. Then, when she had reached halfway, she began to sprint like she was possessed, leaping at Alistair from the last step.

The knight quickly caught the Dark Elf, feeling her arms drape over his shoulders as she buried her face into the crook of his neck. She felt her tears against his skin, heard her sob and hiccup with every breath she took.

"Alberich… I'm not imagining things." Olga murmured. She pulled away slightly as she turned up to stare at his face. He saw her smile, her beauty increasing tenfold even with tears streaming down her face. She cupped his face in her hands, gingerly caressing his flesh as if scared he'll suddenly crumble away. Alistair noted the softness of her hands and the pleasant feeling of them on his skin. "Y-You're real… But, but I had thought-"

"I am not Alberich." The knight could see her smile falter. "He is my ancestor. My name is Alistair Aquila, knight of High Queen Lucross of the Seven Shields Alliance."

There was a flash of clarity in her eyes as she backed away. "O-Of course you're not him. Alberich died ages ago." Her voice was filled with sorrow. "I had forgotten that all firstborn sons of Aquila share a face. But, even still… "

She regarded him with a small smile, one not as fondly as the last, but still quite happy. "An Aquila, in this day and age. I had thought your bloodline extinct with the death of Altair."

"I do not know the circumstances that led to our continued existence," Alistair admitted, "but nevertheless, I stand before you now. I ask once again that you come with me to meet Queen Lucross."

"My Queen Discordia, surely you are not considering this human's offer?" Chloe protested.

"… Very well, Sir Alistair. I shall place myself in your care."

"Your Highness!?"

Olga turned to her subordinate. "This human can be trusted, Chloe. He hails from the household of an old friend of mine. Of all the humans, those of House Aquila are the exception."

A frown marred her features, but Chloe relented. "As you will, Lady Olga." Her gaze shifted to Alistair, glaring at him. "If that is the case, then I will also accompany you. I do not trust you with Her Highness's safety."

Alistair nodded. "That is fine, though I promise that no harm will befall either of you under my protection."

Chloe scowled. "That remains to be seen."

Suddenly, the doors of the throne room were thrown open once more. Chloe moved to Olga's side as Black Dogs streamed into the hall. Vult stood at the fore, a dangerous grin on his face.

"Well, if it isn't the Dark Queen herself! Good work on disarming her Alistair." Vult gestured for his men to surround the Dark Elves. Before they could move, however, Alistair retrieved his weapon and stood in front of the women protectively.

A look of confusion appeared on Vult's face. "Alistair?"

The knight quickly donned his helm once more. "There's no need for further violence. They've already surrendered to me."

Vult paused before smiling at Alistair. "Ah, I see. In that case, I'll have the men take them to the dungeon."

"That won't be necessary," Alistair said with a shake of his head. "I'll do it myself. You should sweep the castle and eradicate any remaining demons."

The warrior frowned as his subordinate's words. "Are you giving me an order, Black Dog?"

"Merely a suggestion, sir."

Olga stepped forward to Alistair's side. "My guard and I have surrendered to Alistair Aquila and no one else. If anyone else attempts to detain us, then we will retaliate in full."

Vult glared at Olga, deciding to call her bluff. "You don't even have a catalyst to cast your spells."

The Dark Queen's hand sparked and crackled with electricity, meeting Vult with a glare of her own. "You are ignorant to think I even need one."

Alistair gently but firmly lowered Olga's hand, giving his leader an unrelenting stare. "Captain. Please." He pleaded.

Vult met Alistair's gaze with his own, entering a battle of wills with the knight. A moment of intense silence passed before Vult scoffed. "Fine."

Alistair nodded. "Thank you, Capt-"

"Hold on." Vult interrupted with a raised hand. He turned his head and barked at the men behind him."Cuffs." One man quickly ran up and gave Vult two sets of iron manacles. He dangled them in the air, the chains rattling loudly. "You'll need these. Can't have prisoners walking around without restraints."

Apprehensively, Alistair approached to receive the handcuffs. As Alistair touched them, Vult grabbed Alistair's arm and pulled him close. The larger man glared down at the knight, tightly gripping Alistair's forearm and causing the gauntlet protecting it to groan in protest.

"You're a Black Dog, Alistair." He growled threateningly. "That means you answer to the Alpha. Don't make me remind you again."

With that, he shoved Alistair back, causing the knight to stumble slightly before catching his footing, and turned to exit the room. "Let's clean up the place, men."

The Black Dogs began to file out of the room behind their leader. As the last man left the room, the doors loudly slammed shut, sealing the throne room once more. The three remaining occupants remained tense for a few more moments until the footsteps completely faded, then all let out sighs of relief. Chloe gave Alistair an inquisitive look.

"You stood against your commanding officer for us. Why?" She asked confusedly.

Alistair turned to face the Dark Elf. "I made a promise— to you, Queen Discordia, and Queen Lucross— that I would personally ensure your safety and well-being. I cannot risk having you two in their custody. After all, many of them blame you for much of humanity's suffering. I would not put it past them to try and harm you or Queen Discordia in some way. Which reminds me…"

The knight knelt at Olga's feet, surprising both women. "I apologize for laying my hands on you, Your Grace. I had merely wished to avoid confrontation with my captain."

The Queen of Dark Elves smiled fondly, his actions reminding her very much of his forefathers. "I understand, Alistair. You do not need to apologize."

Chloe kept her startled expression, thousands of thoughts racing through her mind as she regarded the interaction between the two. _'This human, he's not like any others I've ever met. He's respectful and sincere, never once raising his voice against us despite our hostile actions. And Her Highness… I've never seen such an expression on her face before. Just who is this 'son of Aquila'?'_

Alistair proceeded to restrain the Dark Elves with the manacles, though in such a way that was more for show than anything else. Additionally, he confiscated Chloe's daggers, strapping them to his belt alongside his flail and earning a glare from the blonde.

Satisfied with his work, he asked, "Would you please lead me to the dungeon? I may have said I'd escort you there myself, but I know nothing of the castle's interior."

Olga could not help but chuckle, the sound of her laughter very pleasant to the ears. "Very well, Sir Alistair. I shall give you the honor of imprisoning me within my own castle." Her voice was teasing, almost seductive. "But in return, I must ask a favor of you."

Alistair bowed his head. "Yes, Your Majesty. Ask away."

Olga raised her hand towards her fallen staff. It smoothly flew through the air and into her waiting palm. She then offered it to Alistair. "Please, keep this safe for me. It was a gift from one of your ancestors, so I would hate to leave it in the care of anyone but you."

The knight nodded, reaching forward to firmly grasp the staff.

"NnnghhAAAAAHHHH!"

As soon as Alistair's fingers touched the staff, pain filled his very being. He screamed like he's never had before in his entire life. Thoughts and voices that were not his own filled his mind, threatening to tear it asunder!

**-]|[-**

_He stared down at the small girl before him, unable to stop himself from smiling at her joyful expression._

"_Happy Birthday Olga." He said, watching as his friend of sixty-five years hug the staff to her small frame. It had cost him a small fortune, as the staff was made of some of the rarest materials known to Eostia. It would serve her well once she had reached physical maturity._

_It was a shame he likely wouldn't live long enough to see it._

"_Oh Alberich, it's amazing!" Olga squealed, prancing about in glee. She paused her celebration to jump into his arms. "Thank you so much!"_

"_It was nothing." He responded sincerely. It was true: He would do anything to bring a smile to her or Celestine's face._

_Olga drew back, a small pout on her lips. "It certainly is not! You deserve something in return!"_

_He shook his head. "Your happiness is payment enough."_

"_No! I will give you something in exchange, something priceless and very dear to me." She regarded him with a commanding stare. "Close your eyes. I wish for it to be a surprise."_

_Sighing, he did as she asked. "I thought only the birthday girl was meant to receive gifts."_

"_This _is_ a gift for me. A mutual gift."_

_Suddenly, he could feel small lips on his own. He opened his eyes in shock, seeing Olga's face pressed against him. She drew back after a moment, a mischievous glint in her eyes._

"_Olga?"_

"_There, my first kiss. You should feel honored." Her cheeks were flushed. He was very surprised she managed to say such a thing with a straight face. She leaned against him so that her head rested on his collar and wrapped her arms around his neck. _

_"Become mine." She whispered._

_He hugged her close, enveloping her in his warmth._"_You know I can't do that. I'm a married man, a father."_

"_I don't care. Your wife is not long for this world and neither are you. Spend your last moments with me."_

"_I love my wife too much to do that."_

"_Would you have married me if I was human?" She asked suddenly. The Dark Elf grasped at her still-developing chest. "If my body had aged as fast as yours, would it be me at your side instead of her?"_

"…_Do not ask a question you already know the answer to."_

_Olga smiled, the small victory filling her with elation even as tears began to form._

"_It's not fair." She said, her voice threatening to break. "Why must you humans age so fast? Why can't you stay at my side forever?"_

_He ran a hand through her hair, holding her close. "Because every race has its vices and virtues: Ours just happen to be opposites of each other."_

"_I wish you were born an elf."_

"_Is that so?"_

_She hummed in confirmation. "Celestine feels the same."_

"_I see…" He glanced at the long, tapered tips of Olga's ears. "There are times I wish that as well."_

"_Only sometimes?" She asked curiously._

_He nodded. "I am thankful for what I've been given in life. I have married a wonderful woman, who has blessed me with an equally wonderful son. Then, I was blessed to have been friends with you and Celestine since childhood. If I asked for more, the Gods would think I was ungrateful and take you all from me."_

_He felt her small frame tense against him as she finally broke down._

"_I love you, Alberich." She sobbed, clutching at his chest._

_He patted her back soothingly, a content smile on his face._

"_I love you too, Olga."_

**-]|[-**

Then, just as suddenly as it came, the pain stopped. He gasped, falling to his knees as he took in shallow breaths.

"Alistair!" Olga cried, rushing to his side. "Alistair, are you all right!?"

The knight could barely nod, adrenaline coursing through his system.

"What the hell just happened?" Chloe asked, also moving to aide the man.

"I…" He paused, grasping his sore throat. "I don't know." His gaze shifted to the staff still clutched in his hand.

'_The same staff I had—no, that Alberich had given her. Why… Why do I know this?'_

He was not his ancestor—he had just pointed that out to Olga a few moments ago—so why did he have Alberich's memories?

"We should go." He said decisively, forcing himself to his feet. "If anyone heard my scream, they could use that against you. We must get to the dungeon before that."

Olga stared at him worriedly. "Are you sure that you are fine?"

"I am." He gestured for her to take the lead. "Please, Your Grace."

The Dark Elves shared a look before beginning their trek towards the dungeons. Alistair fell into step behind them, pushing the event to the back of his mind. He had not time to dwell on such a thing for now.

**-]|[-**

The trio managed to reach the dungeons without any major troubles. A few passing Black Dogs did leer at the Dark Elves, but a quick staredown with their armored escort sent them running. They stopped in front of one of the prison cells, having grabbed its key from the warden's room on the way in. It lacked any sort of furniture, having been designed to accommodate prisoners of war and nothing else. Alistair opened the cell door for his charges, then removed their restraints.

"I'll be right back." The knight said, disappearing down the corridor. He returned a few minutes later, dragging a pair of mattresses behind him and carrying some blankets under his arm. He brought them into their cell, laying the beds against the stone walls far out of reach of the metal bars. "I'm sure they are not what you're used to, but it will be better than sleeping on the ground."

Olga gave him an appreciative look. "Thank you, Alistair. This was very thoughtful of you."

"It was only what was expected." He replied with a bow. "Prisoner you maybe, but you are still royalty."

Chloe fought down the smile that tried to show itself. _'This human certainly knows to respect my queen.'_ She praised silently, then glanced at the second mattress. _ 'And… he even brought one for me.'_

Alistair pulled out his tele-stone from his pouch. He held it up to his face in a practiced manner.

"Your Grace, I am ready to give you my report." He told the crystal. Olga and Chloe looked at him curiously.

Celestine's voice responded a moment later. "Good evening, my knight. What has happened?"

"Queen Discordia has been taken into custody, along with her servant. They gave themselves willingly."

"Excellent news!" Celestine squealed. "I knew you would not fail me, Alistair."

"Would you like to speak with her?" He asked, both to Celestine and Olga. There was a contemplative look upon the Dark Elf's face before she nodded.

"… Yes, I would like that very much." Celestine said after a small pause.

Alistair offered the crystal, Olga taking it with after a bit of hesitation.

"Hello, Celestine." Olga's tone was formal and somewhat cold.

Celestine's, in contrast to her counterpart, was warm and nostalgic. "Olga. It has been centuries since I've heard your voice. It is good to hear from you."

"I suppose I could say the same." She looked up from the stone, her attention focused on the knight in front of her. "You have sent quite the interesting man to get in contact with me."

"It had seemed like the perfect opportunity. You should have seen how surprised I was when I found him."

Olga smiled. "He looks just like Alberich. I had thought he came back from the dead."

A gasp was heard. "You saw his face?!"

"Oh? Do you not even know what your knight looks like beneath his helm?" Olga mused.

Celestine growled. "He refuses to take it off! He always gives the excuse that he could be ambushed!"

"Then I'm glad he finds me safe enough to bare his visage to me." Olga's eyes glinted with mischief. "Hmm… If he finds it comfortable to show me, a hostile power, his face; then what does that say about you?"

Silence.

"… I hate you." Celestine whispered, her voice rising to a crescendo as she began to scream. "I hate you so much! I forgot how irritating you are to speak to!"

"Aww, is the great High Elven Queen Celestine Lucross getting frustrated?"

"YOU ARE INSUFFERABLE! YOU HAVEN'T CHANGED AT ALL!"

"And neither have you, Celestine."

Another pause occurred. Then, Olga snickered. It was quiet at first, but then a low giggling came from the tele-stone. The two queens set one another off as the corridor was consumed by their beautiful laughter.

Chloe watched in amazement: She had never seen her queen laugh so joyously before. It brought a smile to the bodyguard's face. Chloe found that she quite liked the sound of Olga's laughter. She turned to regard the man that made it possible, and wondered if she could also bring such joy to her queen someday.

Alistair also observed the scene quietly. A foreign feeling welled in his gut, like butterflies were fluttering about within him. Olga's cheerful expression and the laughter shared with Celestine was quite pleasant. He imagined the two girls from the portrait in place of what he saw before him.

'_It is just like old times.'_

The thought gave him pause, for it was not entirely his own. Alistair raised a hand to his helmeted head, wondering if he was cursed from the staff. His body did not ache as it had earlier, but his memories were a mess. He knew of events he should not know, been to places he's never heard of.

The laughter died down, a bright smile on Olga's face. "I've missed this, my friend."

"I feel the same, Olga. However, we must save our conversation for another time, as I have many matters to attend to."

"I understand Celestine. Have a pleasant evening."

"You as well. Oh, and Alistair too." As the soft glow of the tele-stone faded, Olga handed it back to the knight.

Olga beamed her appreciation. "Thank you again, Alistair."

"Of course, Your Gr-"

"Olga." She stated, interrupting the knight. "I would like you to call me Olga from now on. All of your ancestors had done so, and I'd like for you to do the same."

Alistair paused for a moment, then nodded. "As you wish… Olga."

The way he said her name sent shivers up her spine. It reminded her so very much of how Alberich once said it.

"Then, I shall excuse myself. I will be right across the hall, so do tell me if you require anything." Alistair said, leaving the cell and locking it behind him. He leaned against the wall opposite the cell, letting his head droop from fatigue.

The imprisoned women shared a look. "Alistair, surely you do not plan on standing there all night?" Olga asked.

"This is the most optimal position for standing vigil. I can quickly react to any and all approaches like this." He smiled beneath his helm. "Do not worry about me, Olga. Please, get some rest."

She gave him a hesitant stare before acquiescing to his request. Nothing more had troubled them that night, and they fell asleep in silence.

**-]|[-**

_**Codex Entry: Alberich Aquila**_

_**Notable Relations: Husband of Princess Filianore, Childhood friend of Celestine Lucross and Olga Discordia, Father of Alaric Aquila.**_

_**Notable Titles: The Elf-Lover**_

_**Alberich was abandoned in the Elven lands as a babe, and was adopted by the High Elven King Oberon Lucross. He was raised among the elves, befriending the future queens Celestine Lucross and Olga Discordia. When the human tribes began to form their kingdoms, Alberich was groomed to be an emissary for human-elven relations.**_

_**When one of the human kingdoms declared war on the Elven Kingdom, Alberich entered military service. The lone human among elves quickly rose through the ranks, becoming one of their best fighters and became key to their victory against the hostile human nations. When the hostilities ceased, Alberich was granted knighthood and established House Aquila.**_

_**He was wed to Princess Filianore, establishing an alliance between the elves and the human kingdom of Astora, lived a peaceful life thereafter. After his son Alaric was born, he swore him and all future firstborn sons to the service of his friend Celestine. Alberich passed away at the age of 101, living long enough to see his friends reach adolescence.**_

**-]|[-**

**Hey there guys, how's it going?**

**So, I've been getting a few questions in regards to Alistair's armor. Specifically, what it looks like. Short answer, Goblin Slayer's body armor if it was historically accurate, with the Knight's Helm from Dark Souls 3.**

**Also, the story image? It's Sir Vilhelm from Dark Souls 3, and was drawn by shimhaq98 on deviantart. They have more amazing drawings of other Dark Souls characters if you wanna check them out.**

**No translations needed this time XD.**


	4. In Memoriam

Alistair walked through the library, Olga's staff held in his left hand and his shield strapped to his back, searching for a few books for his captives to entertain themselves with. They had both requested novels of the same series, _The Painted World_. The series contained only two books: _Ariamis _and_ Ariandel._

Though the knight could read and write, he rarely ever did so for pleasure and entertainment. He focused only on battle treatises, training manuals, and anything that would help him kill demons. He was slightly curious to see why the Dark Elves were so fascinated by these novels.

Alistair eventually found the novels side-by-side, neatly organized on one of the many grand shelves that filled the library. He reached to grab _Ariamis_ first, his fingers coiling around the book's spine.

The knight gasped as his mind turned to white.

**-]|[-**

_Snow fell in a flurry around him, but he did not feel cold; despite being as bare as the day he was born. He was covered in warmth, the many fine silk hairs tickling his skin providing ample insulation. He gazed upwards into piercing eyes of blue; long tresses of snow-white hair falling like a curtain around him. This was Crossbreed Priscilla, the fabled daughter of dragon and god._

"_Thou art a strange one, Alaric." The giant woman mused as she tightened her tail around him._

"_Is that so?" He asked, stroking and petting her fluffy tail, earning a small moan from his lover. "I could not help myself: Your fur is addictive to the touch."_

_She smiled down at him teasingly. "Thy fixation will be thine undoing. To think, I could bring the great dragon hunter to heel with just a single wave of my tail."_

"_You are truly a worthy adversary."_

_Priscilla pouted. "Thou'rt mocking me."_

_He shook his head. "It is the truth. You are ethereal, mighty, and beautiful. If you claimed to be a Goddess, I would believe you."_

_The half-breed smiled radiantly, her cheeks flushed from his praise. "Thou art too kind to me, and not enough to thyself. Thine own accomplishments art legendary in their own right."_

"_My greatest being to have joined you in holy matrimony."_

_She stroked his head lovingly, then gently pressed him against her slightly bulging stomach. "Dost thou hear our child? He is quite active."_

_He listened closely to the life that beat within, suddenly feeling something thump against his head. He nodded against her. "Aye, Albion will make a fine warrior, just as his father."_

_His words made her giggle. "Yes, a warrior who will also fall to victim to the comfort of my tail."_

_They both laughed, cuddling and finding solace in each other's embrace. They stayed like that, their focus entirely on one another, uncaring of the cold world that howled around them. After a moment, he raised his head, meeting Priscilla's eyes with a resolved gaze._

"_Take the plunge with me."_

_Her eyes widened at his words before closing sorrowfully. "Thou cannot ask such a thing of me."_

"_I can. I will. A thousand times, if I must. This place, this painted world is no place to raise a child."_

"_Then, once I give birth, thou shall take our son and take the plunge without me."_

"_You ask for me to abandon half of my being."_

_The crossbreed began to weep. "If I leave this place, the gods will hunt us for all our lives. They fear mine existence, and so too shall they fear our child's. They shall surely strike us down."_

"_Damn the gods!" He yelled in fury, a fist raised and surging with electricity. "They shall never lay a hand upon us, I will not let them!"_

"_How can a lone mortal man oppose the gods?"_

"_He can't." He agreed. "But should his wife—whose ability of Lifehunt is able to slay the gods— stand with him, they would be unstoppable."_

"_Thou art mad. Truly and utterly mad."_

"_And you are the reason why, my dear Priscilla. I beg of you once more to take the plunge with me. Stand by my side as we battle for Albion's future. Our _family's_ future." He offered his hand._

_Priscilla stared down at the appendage with fear and trepidation. But then she met his eyes and saw his stalwart conviction, and her fear was washed away._

_She grabbed his hand in hers, lovingly caressing it as she nodded resolutely._

"_Very well."_

**-]|[-**

Alistair was conscious once more. He looked around, searching for any evidence of change in his surroundings, but found none. He was just as he was when first he touched the book, fingers still clenched around its spine.

'_It happened again…' _The knight thought. _'No pain this time though.'_

He had just gained another of his ancestor's memories: Alaric the Dragon Slayer. Alistair pulled the catalyst of his new memories from its place on the shelf. He examined it with a critical eye, quickly skimming through its contents.

'_This book is just a romanticized version of what I… What _Alaric_, had experienced. It's like the Painted World itself had documented the event. If that is the case…'_

He turned his attention to the next novel in the series, _Ariandel_. Alistair hesitated to reach for it, fearing it may cause another set of memories to assault his mind. He was scared of losing his sense of self should he acquire too many foreign recollections. Yet, his anxiety came hand-in-hand with… curiosity.

Alistair _wanted_ to know more of his ancestry, of the blood that pumped through his veins. As a child, he always dreamed to emulate the glory of a knight's life, to fight against epic beasts and earn accolades to would forever emblazon his name in the annals of history. Though that childish wish had long since been abandoned, the opportunity to live vicariously through these visions and accomplish those forgotten goals.

But would sating his curiosity be worth losing himself in a sea of evocations?

He stared hard at the last novel, _Ariandel_; trembling fingers just inches away.

Then, he took the plunge, as Alaric and Priscilla did long ago.

**-]|[-**

_He cried in agony, feeling the paradoxical pain of being both burned and frostbitten at once. Before him, a woman wielding two-scythes stood daunting and imposing, covered in a storm of ice and black fire. Behind him, strapped to his back securely, was their son._

"_My lady Elfriede!" He yelled past the pain, using his greatsword as a crutch. "My love, please! Stop this madness!"_

"_Then return our child, Sir Vilhelm." She threatened chillingly._

_He shook his head. "I cannot. This world's rot is already starting to afflict him, surely you must see it too! He must leave this forsaken place!"_

"_This place is not forsaken: It is my home!" Elfriede shrieked. "And so too shall it be Alto's!"_

_He met her baleful glare with a pleading look. "Your home is dying, its inhabitants rabid and malformed from the rot. Would you have our son share their fate?"_

_The storm around the woman grew fiercer. She stepped towards him menacingly. "I have no further words for thee, Sir Vilhelm. Thou'rt no longer welcome here. In light of our history together, I shall exile thee rather than strike thee down. Now, return my child to me, for thou art no longer kin to us."_

_He visibly recoiled from her words. Then, in a voice threatening to break under his duress, he asked, "Is that how it is?"_

_She stared at him with disdain. "It is."_

"_I… I see…"_

_Her declaration rent his heart asunder. He gritted his teeth, both in anger and in sorrow, as he realized that this was no longer the woman he fell in love with. She was a ghost of her former self, her mind touched with insanity._

_His love was gone, leaving only this hollow imitation in her passing._

"_Forgive me, my Lady..." He whispered morosely. He fell to a knee in silent prayer, casting a miracle of healing upon himself. He continued to speak, his hushed tones echoing throughout the grand hall._

"_I swore an oath, but I have failed you..."_

_He rose to his full height and stared longingly at the woman before him, eyes wet with sadness and regret._

"_... Lady Elfriede..." _

_Then, his gaze turned to steel. He hefted his greatsword up with his right hand and pointed it at the madwoman._

_She scoffed at the sight. "Thou wouldst raise that Onyx Blade—the very gift I bestowed upon thee—against me?"_

"_This blade was a gift from my Lady Elfriede. NOT a lunatic that wears her skin!" He roared, swinging the sword to his side. Black flames coated the length of the blade from base to tip with a 'fwoosh'. His left hand began to glow as it was encased in swirling crimson energy. "And I will use my love's gift to strike down all who would taint her image!_

"_I am me!" She screamed, brandishing her weapons. "I am the sound one, not thou! Thou hast forsaken me for the last time, Sir Vilhelm!"_

_He paused. "… Nay, that is not my name. _

"_That is the name of a man who abandoned his knightly duties for self-satisfying and prideful reasons." He took up a stance, carefully minding the babe that hung on his back._

"_I am Albion Aquila, first son of Alaric Aquila and Crossbreed Priscilla! My family has sworn all firstborn sons to the service of Lady Celestine Lucross, and I'll be damned if I make my son an oathbreaker!"_

_They clashed, igniting the world around them into a purifying inferno._

**-]|[-**

Alistair grew lucid once again, slightly recoiling as Albion's memories joined the others. He felt… fatigued, though he supposed that made sense: He _had_ just experienced two entire lifetimes in the span of a few seconds, after all.

The knight stashed the books in his satchel and turned to leave the archive of knowledge. He was stopped by a familiar mage.

"Ah, Alistair!" Kin greeted with a small smile. "Good morning. I'm surprised to catch you in the archives of all places."

Alistair tapped the satchel that hung off his shoulder. "Queen Discordia requested some entertainment to pass her time."

Kin frowned. "You don't have to be her errand boy, Alistair. She's our prisoner, not our guest."

"Queen Lucross wishes for me to treat her and her servant as such."

The mage hummed non-committedly. "Well then, I suppose you should bring them breakfast. They're serving it now."

Alistair shook his head. "No need. I've already cooked their meals earlier."

Kin couldn't contain his scoff, "So you're a cook then? Their personal chef?"

"I don't trust the rest of the men to make their food. They could poison it, or something similar."

"That… That makes sense." Kin admitted reluctantly. His eyes locked onto the staff in Alistair's left hand. "That's an amazingly crafted staff. It belonged to Olga, right?"

"That's right," Alistair confirmed.

Kin smiled kindly at the knight. "Then, could I perhaps-"

"No, you can't have it."

"You can't even use magic!" Kin snapped, his eyes opening in a glare. "What, are you that attached to your trophies?"

"… Something like that."

"Whatever." Kin said with a huff. He brushed past Alistair angrily. "Go make yourself useful elsewhere. I'm commandeering this room for research purposes and the last thing I need is you distracting me from my work."

Alistair stared at the mage, leaving only when Kin disappeared behind one of the grand shelves of the library. He began to walk back to the dungeons. He was about halfway there when he saw something that gave him pause.

An orc was walking through the halls.

Olga's staff clattered to the ground as he ran at the demon, drawing his flail from his belt. The sound of something hitting the ground alerted the orc, who craned its head over its shoulder to look at where the noise had come from. What it saw was the armored form of Alistair leaping through the air.

The knight latched onto the orc's back, wrapping his flail around its neck and began to wring the life out of it. The demon choked and sputtered, stumbling and slamming into walls to free itself from Alistair's hold. The man held on tight, however, only grunting slightly as he was slammed against the walls of the corridor. Blood began to coat the chains; the orc's neck being torn open from the abrasion of metal on skin.

The sound of struggling drew the attention of nearby Black Dogs, one of which was Hicks, who rushed to the scene. "What the hell is going—Al!"

Hicks ran over to the pair and, much to Alistair's surprise, began to pull him off the orc.

"Al, let it go! It's friendly! Stop!" The rogue frantically yelled.

Alistair, with much reluctance, released the orc from his makeshift garrote. The orc fell to its knees, panting heavily as it covered its nearly crushed windpipe. The rogue breathed a sigh of relief, but then quickly tensed as the angry gaze of Alistair fell on him.

"What is the meaning of this?" Alistair growled. "Why is there a demon still alive in the interior?"

Hicks gulped nervously, raising his hand placatingly. "Alright, alright, I'll tell you. Just, _please_ calm down."

Alistair took a deep breath, trying his damndest to ignore the demon behind him that was still laboring to breathe.

"Well?" Alistair gestured with his arms wide. "I'm waiting."

Hicks was silent for a moment as sweat beaded on his brow. "… Vult struck a deal with the demons."

"He WHAT!?" Alistair roared, terrifying the surrounding Black Dogs. They had never heard the man yell like that before, not even in battle. "WHAT THE HELL IS HE THINKING!?"

Even Hicks was getting nervous. He didn't expect to be the one to have to tell Alistair about the demons. "He wants to recruit them into the Black Dogs. We lost a lot of men recently and Vult was given the opportunity the replenish our manpower."

"With _demons_." The knight hissed, pointing to the orc on the ground. "They cannot be trusted. We would be better off slaughtering every last one of them!"

Hicks gave Alistair a leveled stare, trying to keep a calm tone. "It's out of my hands, Al. Vult's the leader, so he calls the shots. If you have any problems with it, you can take it up with him. I wouldn't recommend though, considering how you've already pissed him off yesterday."

"He will lead the Black Dogs to ruin."

A dangerous glare was trained on the knight in an instant. "Vult has never led us astray before. He is our leader and you will show him respect!" Hicks yelled.

Alistair said nothing more, retrieving Olga's staff and resuming his trek to the dungeons. Hicks stared at the knight's retreating form and clicked his tongue, swearing under his breath.

Things just got a lot harder.

**-]|[-**

Alistair's mood was shot, anger and confusion filling his entire being. _'How? How does recruiting the very enemy you've been fighting seem like a good idea? What deal has Vult struck that has ensured the demons' loyalty?'_

A string of voices broke him from his thoughts, coming from just around the corner.

"Not so high and mighty now, huh, Olga?"

"Your friend looks really cute! Hey, you up for a good time?"

"I know _I _am!" There was a slight jingling of the cell door. "Man, where the hell is the key?"

"Aw man, the things I'd do to them-"

"Like what?" Alistair asked, stepping into view. Three Black Dogs stood in front of the Dark Elves' cell, turning suddenly to meet him.

"A-Alistair!" One stammered, his voice pitched high. "W-What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same." The knight continued his approach. "Well? What kind of things would you do to them?"

All three men nervously took a step back as Alistair drew closer. "U-Uh, n-nothing."

The self-appointed warden was right in their faces. "That's right. You will do _absolutely nothing_ to our prisoners. In fact…"

Alistair grabbed the man's collar, hauling him off the ground. The nameless Black Dog shook in fear as he gazed into the dark slits of Alistair's helm.

"You will tell _everyone_ that the dungeons are off-limits unless I am here; and that if I catch anyone, _especially you three_, in here without me…" He trailed off, letting the threat hang in the air.

The Black Dogs nodded frantically in fearful understanding. Alistair dropped the one in his hands to the ground unceremoniously. The man scrambled past the knight and left the room, the others following him.

Alistair breathed a sigh of irritation, turning to regard the captive Dark Elves. "I'm terribly sorry about that." He said with a bow.

"You don't have to apologize for their behavior," Chloe said from her spot against the wall. The blonde Dark Elf was smiling from the Black Dogs' reaction.

"You misunderstand," Alistair replied. "I apologize for not being here sooner to drive them off. Their actions were inexcusable."

Olga stepped forward, reaching through the cell to touch his chest. "You cannot be everywhere at once, Alistair. It is fine, they could do nothing but jeer and ogle us."

Alistair grunted. "If they had tried to do more, I imagine you would have killed them where they stood."

The knight expected an amused smile, laughter; not the worried frown that Olga gave him.

"To be honest, Alistair," She began, her voice low and quiet. "I have been feeling… _weak_, as of late. Even before you arrived, in fact."

To demonstrate, she tried to call her staff back to her. He loosened the grip on the magical instrument, but it stood and shook in place, only moving towards her after a long moment. It was clear that the simple action required much exertion from Olga: She was panting slightly, and her eyes were closed in concentration.

Chloe immediately stood to support her queen, just in case she collapsed. "Your Grace." She said with concern.

Olga smiled kindly at Chloe as placed a hand on blonde's shoulder; not to support herself, but to ease her servant's worries. The royal turned her gaze back to Alistair, handing him back her staff. "As you can see, even the most basic spell requires much effort on my part. I fear that should I cast one of my more powerful spells, I would be afflicted with mana exhaustion."

Alistair took a thinking pose. "That is… rather grave news. Do you have any idea what may be causing it?"

Olga shook her head. "I can only guess. Perhaps my over-reliance on the Citadel's Heart may be the reason, or that the Heart can no longer sustain itself."

"The Citadel's Heart?" Alistair asked.

"The large crystal atop the Black Citadel's spire." She explained. "I had been using it to amplify my magic and bring the demons here to heel."

"Cowards," Chloe scoffed, "The lot of them. Most of them fled after the failed ambush on your army. No loyalty whatsoever."

Olga shook her head. "They were never an organized force. I could only direct the hordes towards the human settlements, nothing more."

Alistair hummed in understanding. "That explains why the garrison here was so light then. As for the problem with your magic, perhaps Queen Lucross may be able to help?"

"We can only hope." Olga sighed. "Speaking of help, did you acquire the novels we requested? Both Chloe and I are beginning to feel boredom take its hold."

"Ah, right. Here." Alistair retrieved the books from his satchel and put them into Chloe's eager arms. Olga smiled as she grabbed _Ariamis_ from her attendant.

"I love the_ Painted World _duology." She said fondly. "The first book, _Ariamis_, tells the story of the dragon hunter Alaric, who fell in love with his quarry, a half-breed woman called Priscilla: A love story that detailed the struggles of interspecies relationships and its prejudices."

Chloe continued, "The second book, _Ariandel,_ takes place in a later era. There, it follows the tale of the dishonored knight Vilhelm, who found his redemption under the service of the Lady Elfriede. It was a tragic epic that exemplified the need for sacrifice and the inevitability of fate."

"The best part is that they're both based on true stories," Olga explained. "They-"

"Both feature my ancestors, Alaric and Albion." Alistair finished for her. "I'm quite aware."

A frown marred the royal's features. "But how did you know? I was under the impression that you've never heard of the series before today."

Alistair was silent for a moment. "… If I told you that I experienced their journeys first-hand, would you believe me?"

"What?" Both Dark Elves said in shock.

The knight took a deep breath, appalled at his own words, but nonetheless explained his theory. "I believe that if I come into contact with an artifact deeply connected with one of my ancestors, I will gain their memories."

"But that's impossible!" Chloe exclaimed. "You must be lying!"

"I wish that was true." He replied, his voice dropping low. "Then I wouldn't have to fear for my sanity."

"Prove it." Olga commanded, stepping forward. "Tell me something that only one of your ancestors would know."

Alistair met her inquiring gaze. "Alberich gifted this staff to you on your sixty-fifth birthday. You tried to seduce him that day, even going so far as to give him your first kiss, but he rejected your attempts."

"That's… correct." She confirmed with a sad expression. "Does that mean that you remember his entire life?"

He nodded hesitantly. "I remember all there was to all three of their lives: I know their dates of birth, their wives and children, and everything else that mattered to them."

"But…" Chloe weakly denied in spite of the evidence before her. "But that shouldn't be possible."

"It shouldn't," Alistair agreed, "but it's the truth nonetheless."

Olga adopted a contemplative look. "If your hypothesis is true, then perhaps we can find out how exactly your bloodline survived. But besides that, this new ability's usefulness is limited and circumstantial at best. We would need to test how your ancestors' memories affect you to get a conclusive answer, however."

Alistair merely nodded, unsure of what to do with the information himself. Personally, he felt that it was more a hindrance than a boon at this point in time since he was dazed after each evocation. If that happened during combat…

Chloe cleared her throat, drawing the attention of her companions. "Alistair, you said that you remember everything that happened in the Painted Worlds, right?"

"I have my ancestors' personal accounts on them, yes."

"Then, perhaps you could retell the stories for us?" She asked shyly. "Having the story told from a first-person view, especially the protagonist's account, would be a refreshing perspective."

Olga smiled brightly. "That is an excellent suggestion Chloe. I'm very eager to hear from Alaric himself about how he fell for Priscilla. Alistair, would you indulge us?"

"I suppose." The knight said, falling into his usual guarding position. The two Dark Elves sat upon their beds, eagerly awaiting their favorite tales to be retold.

"It all began with a cult, who worshipped a painting. They had killed a wandering knight of the kingdoms and Alaric, having just returned from his hunt of the mad dragon Seath, was sent to investigate…"

**-]|[-**

A week had passed, and still, the Black Dogs had yet to ready a march back to Ken. Alistair's patience wore thin, both from the sight of demons freely roaming the halls and the inaction of his company. Thankfully everyone had heeded his warning about entering the dungeon without him, so he hadn't had to deal with doling out punishment. However, things finally came to a head when Alistair confronted Vult in the throne room, unable to tolerate the delays any longer.

"Why are we still here?" The knight asked, his terse tone belying great frustration. All around him, the other Black Dogs in the room glared at him: Alistair's guard dog act prevented them from ogling the only women in the entire fortress, and they were right pissed about it.

Vult looked upon Alistair from his seat on the throne, a neutral look on his face. Things were still tense from their last interaction a week prior, and Vult's decision to recruit the demons into the company still infuriated Alistair.

The warrior gave a gruff response. "Because we still have things to do here."

"Like what?" Alistair gestured, his arms thrown wide open. "We have explored the Black Citadel in its entirety. Kin has learned all he can from the archives and Queen Discordia's laboratory. Hicks has already rounded up every stray demon under your banner. There is nothing left for us here, so why are we not returning to Ken to receive our reward?"

Vult's eyes narrowed. "Watch your tone with me Alistair." The captain warned. "Your unruliness is starting to get on my nerves."

"I just want to be kept in the fold, sir," Alistair replied with a slight bow. Vult stared at the knight for a bit before sighing.

"Fine. I suppose now is as good a time as any to tell you what I have planned." Vult rose from his throne and slowly approached. "Tell me Alistair, what do you know of history?"

"A lot of things: How the Seven Shield Alliance came to be, how the war between Queen Lucross and Queen Discordia began, how Queen Lucross came into power."

"Did you know that before the Seven Shield Alliance, hell, before Celestine; it was kings, not queens, who ruled the land? That it was men who made all the important decisions? Back in the day, a woman's only role was to service a man's needs; never to command them or lead them into battle.

"Can you not see how their incompetence has led to this point? Celestine and Olga have wasted countless human lives in their petty war. All this death, all of those brave men who died in service to their country, their sacrifice was in vain. We may have won this war, but how long will it be until Celestine leads us into another?"

Vult seemed to be talking less to Alistair and more to the other men in the room.

"I say no more. I say it is time for a man to return to a position of power! Now that we're in control of the Black Citadel and its Demonic forces, we can spark a revolution. A return to how things were meant to be, no, even better! Women will service the men, service _us_, whenever and however we please! We will establish a Cuntry, a Sex Empire, where men like you and me are treated like Gods!"

The Black Dogs within the room cheered loudly at Vult's speech, the man basking in the applause of his soldiers. However, he noticed that Alistair remained unfazed, standing stock-still before him.

"Will you join me Alistair?" Vult asked, standing imposingly before the knight. "Think about it. Any woman, no matter their rank or prestige, would be available to you. They'd live to serve you, to become tools for your pleasure. This is the opportunity of a lifetime."

Alistair was silent still, making Vult frown. However, before he could do anything in response, Alistair slowly bent the knee.

"I will join you, My Lord Vult."

Vult smiled smugly. "That's great to hear Alistair. But…"

Vult gestured for something to be brought into the room. The men by the doors nodded, opening to let an orc stroll in.

"I don't believe you want it enough."

Around the orc's neck was scabbing in the pattern of chain links: It was the same one that Alistair tried to kill last week. It glared at the knight, its eyes filled with loathing and vengeance. Alistair stood at its presence, instinctively reaching for his weapon. He was stopped, however, when Vult gripped his arm.

"I believe you owe our friend here an apology." Vult grinned cruelly. "I can't afford my men to fight among themselves. Apologize to him, and I'll believe you."

Vult could feel the scathing glare leveled at him from beneath Alistair's helmet, but the knight obeyed, wrenching his arm from Vult's grasp. He bowed low to the orc.

"I'm sor-Urk!" He was cut off as the demon slammed its fist into Alistair's back, luckily shattering his shield instead of his spine. He hit the ground hard, the Black Dogs laughing at his predicament.

"I don't think he heard you Alistair. Try again?" Vult chuckled.

Alistair began to rise, slowly getting to his knees. "I'm-Guh!" A foot met his armored chin, sending him flying backwards.

Vult leaned over Alistair's prone form. "Come on Alistair! Hurry up!"

Alistair tried to push himself up. "I-BLURGH!" The orc stomped on the knight's stomach, pinning him to the ground.

Jeers were thrown from the crowd around him.

"What's the matter Alistair?"

"Don't you want to join us?"

"Why are you taking so long!?"

This continued for another several moments: Alistair trying to apologize, only to be cut off by the orc's beatdown. His fellow man only laughed at his misfortune, reveling in his pain and humiliation. However, all of their voices began to die down after the knight rose for the seventh time. Alistair never stopped trying to get up, no matter how badly the demon had beaten him. It ended at last when Vult called the orc off for fear of killing the man.

Alistair, his armor and helm dented under the orc's pounding, stood defiantly against the demon. All could hear the knight's labored breathing, could hear the wet splash of spittle_—_and possibly blood_—_ hit the interior of his helmet when he coughed. He propped himself up on Olga's staff, glaring heatedly at the demon's smug visage.

"I'm sorry." Alistair gasped, loud and clear for all in the room to hear. There was silence among the ranks, the Black Dogs only staring in shock at the sheer amount of punishment the man could take. Even Vult was amazed at Alistair's extraordinary tenacity.

Vult hooked his arm around Alistair's bruised shoulders, whispering into his ear, "Welcome to the Cuntry, Alistair."

Alistair said nothing, only grunting slightly when he felt Vult remove his arm.

"Now," Vult began, his voice calling all to attention. "Let's move on to the 'coronation ceremony!'"

The men cheered and applauded at his words, eager to push the previous show of power to the back of their minds. Vult looked upon Alistair once more. "Alistair, would you kindly retrieve the Dark Elves from their cell? Don't worry, your new friend will accompany you in case you keel over."

The knight could only nod in response. He used Olga's staff as a crutch, walking slowly out of the throne room with the orc trailing behind.

No one saw the way his eyes lit up an eerie red.

**-]|[-**

The Dark Elves sat patiently on their beds, waiting for Alistair to come back from his meeting with Vult.

"I don't like this, My Queen." Chloe said worriedly. She was fidgeting with her hands in anxiety. "It's taking too long for a simple meeting. Do you think something happened?"

In their week of captivity, Chloe had surprisingly warmed up to their warden. He was kind and indulgent of their requests, always bringing them delicious meals he made personally. At times, she forgot that they were his prisoners. Without Alistair's presence watching over them, she felt on edge.

Olga shared her subordinate's concerns. "I believe so, as much as I want to say otherwise. Perhaps they are finally confronting Alistair about his extraordinarily kind treatment of us."

Any further conversation was stopped when they heard two pairs of footsteps approaching from down the hall. When their owners came into view, both women gasped.

"Alistair!" Olga cried as she looked upon his battered form. "What did they do to you!?"

The orc that followed the man grinned proud, a low rumble of laughter coming from its throat.

Chloe barred her teeth at the orc. "You lowly cur! You'll pay for this!"

Alistair pulled out the key to their cell, drawing their eyes as he approached.

"Alistair?" Olga questioned worriedly. His eyes meet hers, silently begging for her trust.

"Alea iacta est." He muttered quietly, unlocking the gate.

He stepped back, allowing the orc to enter the cell. The demon strode towards the Dark Elves menacingly, its eyes leering and ogling their bodies. Chloe immediately shielded Olga, pushing the royal behind her as she stared down the hand that reached for them.

The sound of chains rattling echoed throughout the dungeon.

The orc turned to look where the sound came from, coming face to face with the flanged head of Alistair' flail. The steel sphere impacted the demon's temple with a loud 'crack', splitting open its skull and sending it reeling into the wall. The moment its back hit the wall, the flail swung again, pulverizing the demon's ankle.

The orc screamed in anguish, falling to a knee to keep the weight off its injury. Alistair swung again, shattering the orc's exposed knee cap. Unable to support its own weight, it collapsed onto its stomach. Alistair delivered a vicious kick to the demon's side, rolling over onto its back and straddling its chest. Drawing Chloe's confiscated daggers, he stabbed one into each of the orc's shoulder joints, the blades wedging between bone and muscle and preventing the demon from moving its arms.

The knight stared deeply into the orc's tear-filled eyes, its face contorting in terror and agony as it whimpered in its guttural tongue. Its eyes reflected Alistair's daunting visage: Glowing red eyes that burned from within a battered helm, promising death and destruction.

Alistair whispered the last words the demon would ever hear.

"I'm sorry…" He said, repeating his earlier words. The knight grabbed the head of his flail into his fist and reared it back. "That I didn't kill you the first time."

With that, he let loose an unholy pummeling on the orc's face.

The first strike crushed in its skull.

The second turned its left eye to mush, sending blood splattering onto stone.

The third sent grey matter following.

Neither Olga nor Chloe attempted to interrupt him, too entranced with the brutality Alistair had and is continuing to display. They could only watch in morbid fascination as the knight returned the orc's mercilessness with his own.

Alistair didn't stop until the corpse was unrecognizable, the back of what remained of its skull embedded into the stone floor.

Satisfied with his work, Alistair attempted to stagger to his feet. However, his body fought against him, unwilling and unable to move as he wanted. He fell backwards, thankfully landing on one of the mattresses. The knight was exhausted, the final bits of adrenaline leaving his body and allowing him to feel the aches and soreness it suppressed.

The Dark Elves quickly rushed to fret over Alistair's prone form. "Alistair!"

Olga knelt beside him, her hands glowing with magical energy as she waved them over his form. The simple action already had the woman panting from exertion, but she paid her own fatigue no mind.

Chloe, in the meanwhile, began to take off Alistair's helm to allow him to breathe easier. Her eyes widened when she saw how much crimson coated the interior of the helm, watching as blood even now dripped from his lips. She turned his head to the side to prevent him from choking on his own fluids.

"How is he, milady?" Chloe asked

"Not good. He's suffering from internal hemorrhaging. Several of his ribs and vertebrae are fractured as well. It's a miracle he was able to move as he has."

Chloe turned to Olga, fear in her eyes.

"If he dies, how will we ever escape? Alistair was the only reason we've haven't endured constant harassment so far."

"I know, Chloe." Olga said in a hollow voice, her hair hiding her face from view. "I fear a fate worse than death awaits us should we stay here. But as we are now, we have no hope. I can barely cast this simple diagnostic spell as-is. If I cast a healing spell now, not only will I put myself into a state of mana exhaustion, but the most it will heal would be small scratches and scrapes, not his more serious wounds. He would die regardless."

Chloe noticed something drip onto Alistair's chest. On closer inspection, she realized they were tears.

"My Queen?" Chloe repositioned herself next to Olga, putting her hands around the royal's shoulders. Chloe could feel the slight hiccups in Olga's breathing, the queen's immense sadness becoming quite clear.

"I'm going to lose him again," Olga sobbed quietly. "And only after I've just gotten him back. Why must fate be so cruel?"

Olga felt Chloe's arms wrap around her, bringing her into a comforting embrace. They could only watch, powerless, as life slowly left the last son of Aquila.

**-]|[-**

_**Codex Entry: Alaric Aquila**_

_**Notable Relations: Son of Alberich Aquila, Husband of Crossbreed Priscilla, Father of Albion Aquila.**_

_**Notable Titles: Dragon Slayer, Gods' Bane**_

_**Alaric was the first son of Aquila to be sworn into service of Celestine Lucross. Born with a natural affinity towards lightning magic, Alaric used this innate talent to great affect in his duties. He discovered the inherent weakness that all dragons possessed towards lightning damage, finding it to be one of the few magics capable of piercing their nigh impenetrable scales.**_

_**Earning his title of Dragon Slayer after his battle with the mad dragon Seath, Alaric was sent to investigate the disappearance of one of his fellow knights. During his investigation, Alaric came upon the portal to the Painted World of Ariamis, becoming stranded in a world full of hostile entities. Nearly succumbing to his wounds, Alaric was saved by Crossbreed Priscilla; another prisoner of the Painted World who was fascinated by his existence.**_

_**As Priscilla nursed him back to health, Dragon Slayer and Dragonkin slowly grew to fall in love. Once Alaric recovered in full, he asked Priscilla to escape with him and face the gods that imprisoned her. Together, they fought back the gods that sought to destroy them, and lived a happily ever after.**_

**-]|[-**

**Just want to give a quick shout-out to a very helpful reviewer.**

**AtticDweller: I cannot express just how happy your review made me. It's honestly the best feeling when I get a get a review like yours, that shows both the good and the bad of my writing: It shows that you cared enough about the story to break it down and dissect it. I hope I get more reviews like yours, because it helps me see what I'm doing right and what I need to improve on.**

**That's not to say I don't appreciate the small words of encouragement I get with the other reviews! Please, keep reviewing, even if it's just a few words!**

**Until next time!**

**Translations:**

"**Alea iacta est." – "The die is cast."**


	5. Flight of the Dark Elves

_He dreamt of men._

_Alistair was sat at a round table with several other men, all facing him. Most of them were helmeted, but the few who weren't…_

"_Father?" Alistair whispered in disbelief._

_Indeed, Alaire Aquila was sat to Alistair's left, smiling at him with the same expression Alistair had always remembered his father wearing._

"_Hello, son." Alaire greeted softly. "It is good to see you again."_

_Alaire was not the only one he recognized. There were three others immediately to his right. The furthest from him was Albion. Before him was Alaric. And, the one immediately to his right was…_

"_Alberich… "_

_His ancestor smiled at him, in a manner not unlike his father did._

"_Greetings, young Alistair." Alberich greeted. His voice sounded just as an aged version of his would, yet held an attribute of authority similar to Celestine's and Olga's._

"_What is going on?" Alistair asked confusedly. "This is not one of my memories. Nor is it any of yours."_

"_Aye, you would be correct," Alaric confirmed. "This realm is where the souls of all firstborn sons of Aquila reside."_

"_I believe it was created when I first pledged our family in service to Celestine," Alberich explained._

"_Why am I here?" Alistair asked._

_All men at the table answered in unison. "Because you weren't strong enough." _

"_You lay dying as we speak," Alaire explained. "But it is much too soon for you to join us, my son."_

"_You were lucky to have found my memories of the Painted World," Albion stated grimly. "For if you hadn't, all hope would have been lost."_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_Because of our unique existence in this realm," Alaric explained, "all firstborn sons may access their ancestors' memories and the knowledge they possessed during life: This includes our fighting styles and every spell in our respective arsenals."_

"_That means that my miracles of healing are at your disposal," Albion added._

"_However, those memories cannot be accessed without the right catalyst." Alaire clarified. "I could not access any of our ancestors' powers because I never came into such a thing to trigger their memories."_

"_How has this ability gone unrecorded? Did you all keep this a secret?"_

_Alberich gestured to one of the others. "In truth, the ability's existence was discovered on accident by Alamar."_

_The nominated man spoke. "I did not manage to do much with it, writing it off as an insignificant gimmick. I passed on my meager knowledge of the ability to my son Alain, who then passed it along to Altair."_

_Another of the helmeted men hung his head low in shame. "All knowledge was lost with me. I apologize once again, my descendants: I had made you all oathbreakers."_

"_Mala ultro adsunt." The rest of them replied. "It is not your fault."_

"_You must be Altair then," Alistair deduced. "Tell me, what became of you? How was it that our bloodline was thought extinct?"_

_Altair shook his head. "A blunder on my part. I was struck with a particularly strong blow to the head during battle and I lost all my memories. I wandered off, not knowing who I was or why I was there. I ended up indebted to a family of farmers, where I met my wife. I only regained my memories when my soul returned here."_

"_I see…"_

_Albion stood from his seat. "There is little time left, twentieth son of Aquila. Come, I shall guide you in the healing prayer."_

_Alistair held up a hand. "Last question. How do I get into contact with you all again?"_

_They all chuckled. "Unlock our memories or skirt the edge of Death's borders."_

_Alberich, Alaric, and Albion gave him fatherly smiles. "Merely dream of us, and we shall answer."_

_Alistair turned to Alaire. "And you, father?"_

_Alaire smiled sadly as a helm enclosed his head, locking away his visage. "Find my memories, and I shall come too. Though," He chuckled," I doubt you would find much use in the memories of a farmer."_

_Alistair nodded, a wistful smile on his face, as he rose to join Albion in prayer at last._

**-]|[-**

He awoke to women.

Alistair could see the shocked expressions of Chloe and Olga, faces still wet with tears, as golden runes appeared beneath his body. Its light encapsulated him, embracing him in its warm, comforting aura. His shaky, shallow breaths deepened into a calm sigh of relief as he felt his wounds begin to mend.

'_Thank you, Sir Albion.'_

"Alistair?" Olga whispered in disbelief.

The silver-haired man reached up with his clean hand and gently wiped away her tears. "I yet live, Olga. Please, do not cry."

Olga slowly clutched his gauntleted hand in both of hers, her despairing grimace turning into a tearful smile. She pressed his palm to her cheek lovingly, her hiccups and sniffling slowly dying down.

Chloe beamed brightly as she helped the knight sit up. "I'm glad you're all right, Alistair."

"Thank you," He said, "but now is not the time for pleasantries. We need to escape, as soon as we can." He turned to Olga. "Are there any escape tunnels that we can use?"

"There is one," She answered, "Within my chambers."

"Then that's where we have to go." With that, Alistair picked up her staff and donned his battered helm once more. Damaged as it was, it was still better than no head protection. He gestured for the Dark Elves to follow him. "I'll need to take the lead since the Black Dogs still don't know about my betrayal. Be prepared for a fight, but otherwise remain docile."

Both Olga and Chloe fell in step behind Alistair, the trio quickly exiting the dungeon after he gathered his weapons. On the way, Alistair explained the circumstances that led to their current predicament: He told them of Vult's plans to conquer Eostia, of his goal to create a Sex Empire, of his attempt to recruit the knight into his ranks. Their expressions quickly morphed into combinations of disbelief, anger, and _loathing_.

"We need to kill him." Olga decided, Chloe nodding vigorously at her words. "He cannot be suffered to live."

"As much as I agree," Alistair said. "it would be impossible right now. His sub-division leaders are only slightly less dangerous than Vult himself. With all three of them working together, not to mention the countless other fodder they command, we would only waste our lives."

Chloe growled and Olga frowned, but both knew his words were correct. Their best hope would be to warn the Seven Shield Alliance and ask Celestine for amnesty.

**-]|[-**

Their party passed by several wandering Black Dogs, all of them taunting and ogling the Dark Elves, but otherwise did nothing to impede them—Alistair guessed that they had other duties that prevented them from following. Chloe grit her teeth and glared at the mercenaries, but Olga kept her royal disposition and paid them no mind: They were beneath her, and her party would keep her safe.

They were nearly upon their destination when they were finally confronted. Three men stepped deliberately in front of them, smirks and sneers on their lips. Alistair recognized these men as the same ones that antagonized the women behind him in the dungeon a week prior. The Black Dogs were armed this time: One sported a poleaxe; another, an arming sword; and the last, two daggers.

"Hey, Alistair. How're you holding up?"

"We heard that you got into a fight with one of our new friends."

"Looks like you lost pretty bad, huh?"

Their snarky comments got no reaction from the battered knight, though they misinterpreted his silence as shame.

"Man, the damn thing must've given you a concussion. The throne room's the other way, stupid!"

"You must feel like shit, Al!" The one with the arming sword approached him with a cocky grin. "Why don't you get some rest? We'll take the prisoners to Vult."

Alistair shifted his stance slightly. "No need. I'll be fine."

"No, no…" The approaching mercenary refused, his hand palming the pommel of his sword. The other two soldiers began to flank their comrade, also resting their hands on their blades. Their eyes flashed dangerously as the lead mercenary entered arm's reach of Alistair. "We _insist_."

The words of his ancestors echoed in Alistair's mind. _'Mala ultro adsunt…'_

"Misfortune comes uninvited." He muttered, pushing Olga's staff into her arms.

"Wha-?" Before the mercenary could say any more, Alistair grabbed the man by his collar and began to pound his face into oblivion. The sudden pummeling caught the other two men off guard, too shocked to aide their comrade. Teeth, blood, and spittle sprayed into the air as Alistair's victim was savagely beaten into unconsciousness. The knight quickly unbuckled the sword from the man's hip, tossing the blade into Chloe's hands.

The blonde elf quickly unsheathed the arming sword, tossing its scabbard to the side as she rushed to engage the dual wielder. The man barely recovered his wits in time to block Chloe's slash.

The remaining mercenary tried to rush and help his friend, but Alistair did not let him. Driving his shoulder into the man's side, he took the Black Dog off his feet and slammed him into the wall. The air was forced from the mercenary's lungs on impact, leaving him gasping for air as Alistair drew his flail and swung. The flail wrapped around the man's neck, tightening like a vice and forcing him to abandon his weapon in favor of trying to free himself.

The Black Dog choked and sputtered, struggling to breathe as Alistair stepped past him and _heaved._ A loud 'snap' echoed throughout the halls, distracting the remaining combatant and allowing Chloe to drive her blade into his neck. The Dark Elf watched gleefully as her wannabe tormentor clutched onto the sword, blood frothing at the wound with every attempt to breathe. His struggle ended after a moment, his body going slack as it slipped off Chloe's weapon and collapsed lifelessly to the ground.

Both Chloe and Alistair gave each other a nod of approval, then set about looting the bodies for anything worthwhile. Between the three mercenaries, the duo collected a few rations, two half-filled canteens, and some flint, along with their weapons—Alistair returned Chloe's daggers and kept the Black Dog's, as well as the poleaxe. Satisfied, their party quickly rushed into Olga's bedroom.

The room was nowhere near as extravagant as Celestine's, nor even Alistair's own suite. It was modestly decorated but was relatively spartan compared to usual royalty standards. Olga quickly crossed the room to the opposite wall and place her hand on it, channeling a touch of mana into the appendage.

A small section of the wall next to her hand glowed a luminescent blue before fading away, revealing a winding staircase that lit up with torches. Olga gestured for the other two to enter first, Chloe nodding and Alistair following wordlessly behind. Olga entered after Alistair, the illusory wall erecting once more when she removed her hand.

The party shifted their formation so that Olga traveled between the two melee fighters—Chloe led the way while Alistair stood at the back. With this small moment of reprieve, the trio let out a collective sigh of relief. They continued down the stairwell at a moderate pace.

"That was marvelous work, you two." Olga complimented. Chloe preened at the praise while Alistair grunted in acknowledgment.

Alistair glanced behind them. "How did you do that?" He asked. "The wall, I mean."

"Ah," Olga chuckled slightly, "That was an illusory barrier cast by a hidden rune. By disrupting the flow of mana within the rune, the barrier will drop and allow passage."

"I see…"

"Who taught you to fight, Alistair?" Chloe asked. "Your fighting style is ruthless, almost barbaric in its brutality; yet every move is deliberate and efficient, all strikes precise and debilitating."

"I was self-taught."

"Really?" Chloe said in surprise, glancing back at the man.

He nodded. "I did have a teacher, but he taught me the mindset needed to fight. He did not train me in martial arts."

Olga smiled at his words. "That is of little surprise. All of Alberich's descendants were naturally gifted fighters."

"Is that so?"

"It is."

"Still," Chloe continued, "That's rather impressive, regardless of your bloodline. To be able to train yourself to your current skill level speaks volumes of your dedication and strength."

Alistair smiled beneath his helm. "Thank you."

Chloe hummed in acknowledgment, facing forward to hide the blush that tinted her cheeks.

The party reached the bottom of the stairwell after a few more moments, entering a small, empty chamber. Like before, Olga moved to the opposite wall and placed her hand on it, causing another illusory wall to fade away. Beyond the illusion were the Badlands in all their despairing glory, sunlight shining down unto a forest of dead trees.

Olga turned to her comrades and gestured with her free hand. "Well then, shall we?"

**-]|[-**

Vult sat impatiently on his throne, propping his head up with a fist. It was taking much too long for the prisoners to arrive, even with Alistair's wounds. Then again, the knight had taken a brutal beating and seemed to be standing only through sheer willpower alone. Maybe he had fallen over dead and the stupid orc didn't figure to take the key with him.

The thought of Alistair's death brought a frown to Vult's face. It's not like he wanted the man to die. In fact, he would much prefer having such a skilled fighter on his side. The mercenary-turned-knight was a cut above the rest of his Black Dogs, on par with Hicks and Kin; maybe even himself. However, the problem with Alistair was his loyalty: Yes, they may have shed blood and sweat together on the battlefield, but Alistair had been very vocal about his opposition to joining forces with the demons. Vult knew there was no talking to the man, so the Alpha of the Black Dogs had to beat his pup into submission. If Alistair died from his wounds, then so be it.

The doors of the throne room were thrown open as one of his soldiers staggered into the room.

"Lord Vult!" The soldier cried. "There's a dead orc in the dungeon! The corpse is fresh, I-I think it was the one that went with Alistair!"

Vult raised a brow. "Oh? Well, I suppose Alistair had more fight in him than I thought." Vult grinned: His pup was a wolf all right. "I guess I'll let him off for that. He's certainly earned it, considering the state he was in."

Another of his Black Dogs entered the room, a heavily injured man draped over his shoulders.

"Captain! We got wounded!" The new arrival yelled. Vult stood at his words as his mind began to race.

'_There's no way…'_ He thought, _'It had to be a stray demon. It has to be.'_

Vult stood from his throne and hurried over to his men. The injured man shakily raised his head to stare at his leader, his face swollen with bruises and open wounds.

"What happened?" Vult questioned the uninjured man.

The addressed soldier gulped before answering. "W-We were looking for Alistair and the prisoners. We found this one unconscious next to two other bodies."

"And where are they?"

"D-Dead, sir. One with a broken neck, the other with a hole through it."

Vult swore under his breath, turning his attention to the injured man. "Who did this to you?" Vult asked, breaking in a cold sweat.

The injured man tried to speak, but coughed instead, sending blood splattering across the floor. His head began to droop, but he used the last of his strength to utter his attacker's name.

"Alistair…"

The Black Dog carrying the injured man felt his body go limp and laid him gently down on the ground. He checked his comrade's pulse.

"… He's gone, sir."

Vult grit his teeth as panic flashed in his eyes. He looked around at the surrounding Black Dogs, all with nervous expressions as their leader barked out orders. "I want this entire fortress swept for any sign of Alistair and the prisoners! Get a scouting party ready to head out if nothing turns up here!"

"SIR!" They saluted, moving to immediately carry out their orders, leaving Vult the sole occupant of the room.

His brow furrowed, a snarl on his lips as his mind raced. _'How? How!? HOW!? How the _fuck_ did Alistair manage to escape with Olga and her bitch servant? No… NO!"_

Vult's rage-filled howl was heard throughout the entire Citadel.

**-]|[-**

The escapees did not stop moving until well past midnight, where the only natural light were the stars above. Alistair had seen how tired Olga was, and decided not to push further. Instead, he observed their surroundings.

They were in a small clearing, surrounded by densely packed trees; all of which were blackened and dead. The ground beneath their feet was hard and cracked, almost like stone. He saw Chloe tending to Olga, leaning the royal against the trunk of a tree and hastily giving her a canteen. Olga took a small sip of the precious water within.

Alistair was glad that the elf, despite her status, knew how to ration their supplies. They could stretch out their water supply for another day and a half; though where they would find more would be a problem meant for later worry. As for food, they had eaten through most of their looted rations; as only a few bits of jerky and dried fruit remained. If needed, they could skip meals for the next few days, but he preferred them to be in suitable shape to defend themselves.

He looked up to the barren treetops and the gnarled branches that covered the sky. They were high enough from the ground that most predators would not reach them. _'Unless we come across a demon bear.'_ He thought. The Black Dogs had encountered one while crossing the Badlands, the ferocious beast having killed three men and wounding two more before it was brought down. He hoped they wouldn't run afoul one.

He caught Chloe's attention and gestured upwards, receiving a nod of understanding as she helped Olga up the trees. The branches were sturdy and inflexible, might as well having been sculpted from rock: They would be able to support their weight with ease. Alistair passed his poleaxe up to Chloe and began to scale the tree himself. They each took residence on separate branches, though they were all facing the same direction; and were very nearly touching each other. Alistair and Olga balanced their polearms over their shoulders, steady and very unlikely to fall.

Alistair retrieved his tele-stone from his pouch, grateful that is had not broken during his previous tribulations. "Your Grace, I'm ready to give you my report of today's events."

The crystal glowed faintly as Celestine's frantic voice came through. "Alistair! I had been waiting all evening for you! What took you so long?"

"We have been betrayed."

"What?" She gasped.

Alistair briefly detailed everything that's happened to him and his companions. He could almost see the frown that marred the High Elf's face.

"That is… most troubling news, my knight. Where are you now?"

"Somewhere in the Badlands, in a forest of dead trees. I estimate we will cross the border in roughly three days' time."

"I shall have a patrol waiting for you then. If you arrive ahead of schedule, call me and I shall let them know to rendezvous with you."

"What do you plan to do about Vult and the Black Dogs?"

"I will spread the word of their betrayal. The Black Dog mercenary company will be branded as a terrorist organization and enemies of the state. I will fine-tune the details later, but the punishment for association will be most dire, I assure you." There was a pause. "How is Olga? May I speak to her?"

"Of course, my liege." Alistair passed the communication device to the Dark Elf Queen, a neutral expression on her face.

"Yes Celestine, I'm quite fine, thanks to our knight." Her eyes glanced appreciatively towards the armored man. "Did you doubt his ability?"

"Of course not!" Celestine said indignantly, "I just… I wanted to hear your voice for myself."

Her words made Olga smile sadly. "I… I see. I'm happy to know you still worry about me so."

"Of course I still worry. We were practically sisters growing up. Nothing will change that."

"Hmph, you were always so sentimental." Despite her words, Olga's smile brightened, nostalgia washing over her.

Celestine giggled knowingly. "How about your attendant? Chloe, correct?"

"That's right. Chloe is doing better than myself, actually. Her physical fitness is much greater than my own, so she did not tire as easily as I had."

Chloe blushed. "You flatter me, milady."

"It's the truth, Chloe. Do not be so humble."

Celestine sighed on her end. "I'm glad all of you are all right. May the spirits protect you on your journey, sister."

"Thank you, Celestine. Good night."

"W-Wait!" The High Elf stammered hurriedly. "C-Could you please put Alistair back on?"

Olga grinned mischievously. "Oh? Would you like to wish him good night?"

"Y-Yes. Now, please-"

"How adorable!" Olga cooed, turning to the knight with a teasing glint in her eye. "Do you hear that Alistair? Your Queen would like to wish you sweet dreams!"

"OLGA!" The stone shrieked in a flustered tone.

The Dark Elf snickered as she passed the crystal back to Alistair.

"Yes, Your Majesty?" He asked, waiting patiently as Celestine calmed herself down. He heard her clear her throat before speaking.

"I wanted to thank you for all your hard work so far, Sir Alistair. You will be handsomely rewarded when you return to me."

"I am just doing my duty."

"And more," She corrected. "As Olga told her servant, do not be so humble, my knight."

"As you wish. Will that be all?"

"Yes, that is everything. Good night, Sir Alistair."

"Good night, Your Majesty."

Alistair stowed the stone away in his satchel, relaxing to the pleasant sound of Olga's stifled giggling. The knight glanced at the Dark Elves, a curious thought coming to mind.

"Aren't you going to be cold?" He asked, gesturing to their admittedly skimpy outfits. Both Chloe and Olga merely smiled at him, as if the topic was an inside joke.

"We'll be fine, Alistair," Olga assured him. "All elves are naturally attuned to nature. This mild weather hardly affects us. It's rather refreshing, actually; it can be so stifling inside the Citadel at times."

Chloe hummed in agreement. "Centuries ago, when our people were more numerous and the Badlands weren't yet called so; Lady Olga and I would take strolls through the forest, basking in its natural energy."

"… Do you ever regret what happened to these lands?" Alistair asked.

Both elves frowned but did not hesitate to answer. "Of course. The destruction of nature is always regrettable; yet, there are times when it is necessary. The Dark Elves were a strong people: Agile, cunning, dexterous, and ruthless. A single Dark Elven warrior was easily the match of three humans."

"But what happens when those three become five," Chloe continued, "or ten, or twenty? The humans outnumbered us greatly and elves could not replenish our numbers as quickly as they could. Our people's longevity comes at the cost of our slow maturity: In the time it takes one elf to mature, dozens of humans will have already reached adulthood. So, Lady Olga resolved to harness the power of demons instead."

Olga closed her eyes in sadness. "I used dark magic to empower myself, absorbing the life of these lands and corrupting it beyond repair. It was the only way to bring the demons to heel, for they only understand power and fear. And because of my decision, I was able to bring the human kingdoms to the brink of extinction."

Chloe looked over to Alistair. "Well, now you know more about us. Think you can return the favor?"

Alistair glanced at his companions, noting how interested their expressions were. He sighed, "Very well. What would you like to know?"

The women drew into a conference between themselves, whispering in tones he could not hear. Then, after a few moments of debate, they reached an agreement. They turned to him with decisive expressions. "Tell us why you became a mercenary."

The knight grew silent, and the Dark Elves feared that they had upset the man. However, he turned to them, and the elves could _feel _the sadness in his faraway gaze.

"It began fifteen years ago, in the village of Anfange…"

**-]|[-**

_The Summer Harvest festival was in full swing. The crops yielded a bountiful harvest that year, and all the villagers were celebrating. My father, Alaire, and I were loading the last of our wheat into the cart. Father would take it to the City Fortress of Rad the morning after the festival._

_My mother, Laura, watched from the window of our home, dressed in preparation for the celebration. Her crimson red eyes were filled with contentment, keeping her sight on us even as the breeze blew her long, silver hair to the side. Father wiped the sweat from his brow, running his calloused hands through his short black hair. He looked down at me with his dark green eyes, eyes filled with pride and love._

_We shared a wordless conversation, nodding at each other as we entered our home. The smell of food wafted into our nostrils as we both broke into grins: Mother had made our favorite beef stew. Father immediately walked over to the fireplace, where the stew was cooking over a smokeless fire. I moved to follow him when I felt a feminine hand on my shoulder._

"_It's not done yet," Mother said, shooing him from the pot. "Go down to the waterfall and wash yourselves. You both reek of sweat."_

"_I thought you liked it when I sweat." Father rebutted._

_Mother rolled her eyes. "I like _watching _you sweat. Smelling you is a different story." She tossed a bar of soap at him, father catching it before it hit his face. "Now go. You'll ruin the food with your stench."_

_Both father and I did as she said, grabbing a change of clothes and walking to the nearby creek. We were fortunate to have a source of running water where we could bathe regularly, despite my complaints of its coldness. Father and I hurriedly washed up, feeling the cold water mix with soap to wash the dirt and grime from our bodies._

_We were thankful that there were no admirers today: Usually, some of the village girls would try to sneak a peek at my father whenever he bathed. He didn't care, unbothered by their stares; though I do notice him always keeping a hand over his privates. My mother had a few admirers herself but put a stop to their antics immediately._

_We finished quickly and returned home, mother awaiting us at the fully set table. My parents began talking about adult things, like the going rate for crops and other uninteresting topics. I paid little mind to their conversation, too engrossed in stuffing my face with stew and bread._

_There was a knock on the door and I rose to answer it._

_I was met by my friend Samantha, a girl who was slightly older than I was—twelve to my ten. Dirty blonde hair fell to her shoulders, framing a cute, cherub-like face. She was wearing one of her prettier dresses, a baby blue summer dress. Her hazel eyes met my red, a smile on her face._

"_Hello Alistair!" Samantha greeted bubbly. "Would you like to be my date for the festival?"_

'So straight forward,'_ I thought. That was probably why my mother liked her so much. I looked back at my parents, who merely smiled and waved their consent._

"_Okay," I told her. She beamed brilliantly at me, quickly grabbing my hand and dragging me out the door._

_The sun had already begun to set, the sky fading into a beautiful orange. The stalls were already set up as familiar faces attempted to sell their wares: The glassblower was selling ornate baubles with artistic designs I've never seen before; the food vendors were trying to tempt us with the smell of roasted meat and freshly baked sweets. Samantha bought one of the sweets and split it in half for us to share._

_Our handholding drew much attention from the villagers, who cooed at us in teasing tones. Samantha blushed, but did not let go of my hand; I did the same. We partook in the various dances that were held, giggling and laughing in pure bliss and glee. I felt warm in her embrace, as she did in mine._

_Night had fallen before we knew it, the only lights were from the lanterns and bonfire that lit up the village square and the paths that led out. The festival had been a successful event, where couples were forged or had their love rekindled. _

_Then, a terrified shriek traveled through the air._

_It was far away at first, but we all heard it. All the villagers turned towards the source of the scream. Beyond the embers of torches in the distance, we could see shadows of various shapes and sizes. A few of the militia left the square and went to investigate, while the rest had us evacuate. _

_More screams entered the air. Wails of pain and horror echoed from the investigating party as they were consumed by the shadows, the light of their torches snuffed out. The shadows were getting closer, and I could begin to make out the shapes, even as I was being pulled along by Samantha._

_Black turned to green and red under the glowing flames. Numerous child-like forms advanced with several larger, hulking ones marching behind them. Yellow eyes glinted dangerously as they raised bloody weapons into the air._

_It was a demon raid._

_The townsfolk began to panic, pushing and shoving their way to escape. I felt Samantha slip away from me, carried away with the mob as I was shoved onto the ground. I called her name, desperate to find her, yet I knew that my voice was lost in the sea of screams the villagers emitted._

_In their mindless panic, a few of the fleeing villagers knocked over the lanterns, crashing and breaking them into the nearby buildings. The meager flames quickly spread, consuming the wooden constructs in a blazing inferno. I felt the heat lick at my skin as the area was bathed in light and suffocating warmth._

_I pushed myself up and began to run home, tears dripping down my face. _'If I make it home, I'll be all right,'_ I thought repeatedly,_' Mother and Father will protect me. Mother used to serve in the army, she can protect us.'

_Behind me, I heard the fervent shrieks and screams of fear, the death wails and wet squelches. The demons had finally arrived. I didn't look back, only sprinting harder towards my safe haven. I could taste the ash of my burning village with every breath, could feel it scorch my lungs as they heaved for air. My legs began to tire, but I didn't stop, didn't relent until I burst through the door of my home._

_It was completely empty._

"_No, no no no nononono," My mind raced with painful possibilities. _'Did they already evacuate? Did they leave without me? Where are they, did they save themselves? Why didn't they look for me, how could just leave me behind? Why, why why why-'

_The door of my home flew off its hinges, kicked in by a clawed foot. I spun around to face the intruders: One muscular demon followed by six goblins. I saw how the demon grinned with its sharp teeth, saw how it licked its lips at the sight of me. The goblins were no better, squealing in excitement. They looked at me with hungry eyes, cackling with perverse glee._

_I scrambled backwards, bumping into the kitchen counter and knocking a knife from the shelf. I quickly grabbed it with both of my hands and shakily pointed it at the group of monsters. They laughed even harder at my desperate and futile resistance. So focused I was on the approaching demons that I didn't see another figure rush through the door._

_The muscular demon gasped in pain as a pitchfork pierced it from behind, lifting it off its feet as it was carried forward and pinned to the wall. A roar of fury followed as a sickle swiped across the demon's neck, cutting open its throat in a spray of black ichor._

_The remaining demons and I turned our gazes to my savior._

"_Father?" I said in awe. He didn't reply, instead shouting a war cry at the goblins._

"_Te secabo!" He punctuated his words by cleaning decapitating one of the goblins before they had time to react. The farming instrument that he used to cut down wheat was used to great efficiency against the goblins, easily lopping off limbs with swift and heavy strokes. By the time Father was finished, the entire room was coated in red._

_Father's broad shoulders heaved with exertion as the rage left his eyes. He turned to me, with his usual smile, albeit somewhat tinged with fatigue. "Son? Are you all right?"_

_I said nothing, dropping my knife and hugging his leg. I wept, so glad and happy that he saved me, that he didn't abandon me. He knelt down and patted my back soothingly until I calmed down._

_I looked up into his caring eyes. "Where's Mother?"_

_He looked out the window, towards the giant fireball that was our village. "She's out there fighting, trying to get the others to safety."_

_My blood began to pump in a way I've never felt before. I felt compelled to fight, just as my father had done. I looked into his eyes and my request died on my lips._

_My father was always a man of few words. I was too. But we didn't need to talk to have a conversation. Whenever our eyes met, our wills were conveyed to each other. He saw the fire in my eyes, but he did not fan the flames. He did not want to me join him._

"_Stay here." He commanded me. I felt my shoulders sag, disappointment welling in my being as it crushed my fighting spirit. He was right, of course. I was still merely a child who came no higher than his waist. I would be more liability than help._

_Father cut open the floorboards, revealing a small hole that was barely my size. He reached into one of the eviscerated goblins and grabbed a handful of its guts. "Goblins have strong noses," He explained, "They can easily sniff out a child or woman. That's why we need to hide your scent."_

_I nodded in understanding, spread my arms as he rubbed the goblin gore all over my body. "Mother's going to be so mad once she finds out." I joked. Father chuckled slightly._

"_I think she'll forgive me this once." He said. Once he was satisfied, he lowered me down into the hole. "Stay here until morning. By then, all the demons will have left."_

"_What will you do?"_

_He smiled at me, ruffling my hair. "Protect our home."_

_With that, Father lowered the floorboards on me, my vision limited through the small cracks between them. I heard him shift the bodies around so that they covered my hiding spot as well, just in case._

_I was awake the entire night, not daring to fall asleep. I hoped throughout the night that either father or mother would return home to let me out of the floorboards and take me into their arms. I hoped that everything that happened was a nightmare, that everything would go back to the way it was when I woke up._

_My hopes were dashed._

_The sun's rays peaked through the floorboards, signaling the end of my seclusion. I pushed with all my might, feeling and hearing the bodies slide off my cover. The smell of rotting flesh was poignant, but I paid it no heed. I traveled outside and quickly came upon a trail of carnage: A slew of demon corpses were viciously cut down to either side of the dirt path that led to the village square. I slowly followed the trail, careful to not get too close to the bodies lest they rise from the dead._

_The fire had died down now, leaving behind charred foundation and the occasional embers. The closer I got to the village's center, the more human bodies I came across. Some of them were crushed under fallen beams, others were cut down by the demons; a few had noticeable bite wounds, great clumps of flesh missing from their bodies. On closer inspection, I noticed that all the female villagers had their clothes ripped, exposing their breasts and privates to the air. They were caked in a white substance that stood out from the pools of crimson they laid in._

_I ventured further and further inwards until I finally saw what I was looking for._

"_Mother… Father…"_

_They stood out amongst the corpses strewn about, for they were the only humans in the vicinity. They were surrounded by mutilated demons, whose black ichor died the earth in its color. Mother was sat against the remains of the village tavern, dressed in damaged leather armor. She was cradling father's body in her bosom, a plethora of weapons sticking out of his back. His body was covered with countless wounds, his clothes stained both crimson and black._

_They both looked so peaceful, as if mother was comforting father after a long day of work. I approached them, reaching out for them with a shaky hand. When I touched them, I felt only cold; not the warmth I was used to. I tried to wrap myself with their limp arms, trying so very hard to deny what I knew to be true._

_Tears sprung forth once more as I hiccupped and sobbed. Through my tear-filled eyes, I beheld everything that I've ever known. What was once a prosperous village is now naught but a razed ruin. My people who were but a night ago dancing and prancing in joy laid still and unmoving. My loving parents, so warm, so full of life, now lay together in each other's cold embrace. _

_My gaze turned to the ones responsible. The various demonic corpses that surrounded me, just as dead as the villagers they killed and defiled. All of this death and destruction… caused by their wanton greed and lust._

_Why… Why did such things exist? The only good a demon can do is when it is dead and unable to harm anyone. They should all just disappear. They should all just die!_

_Demons… I'll kill them all. I'll take from them as they took from me. Until my last gasp, until my body fails, I won't stop. I'll never stop… until every last demon is hunted down…_

**-]|[-**

"I will kill all the demons."

Alistair concluded his story, awaking from his trance-like state as he remembered where he was and who he was with. He saw their horrified and guilty expressions, their hands covering their mouths.

"Alistair…" Olga started, "I'm… I'm so sorry."

He shook his head. "It is not your fault. As you said, you could only direct them, not control them. I do not blame you."

"Still…"

"It is in the past," He stated decisively, leaving no room for argument, "There is no use dwelling on what cannot be changed."

The elves reluctantly dropped the topic, feeling too ashamed to make further conversation. They fell into an awkward silence, as neither knew what to say. Instead, they fell into a tentative sleep, allowing Alistair the first watch. This allowed the knight some time alone with his thoughts.

The knight had meant what he said: He did not hold any resentment towards Olga. She was not the one who destroyed his home, nor the one who killed his family. He was merely collateral damage in a war that was meant to finally end.

Instead, Vult would plunge the world in war once more to sate his thirst for power. He was greedy, lustful, envious, and prideful; and his men were no better. All of the Black Dogs prescribed to Vult's heinous ideology. They were no better than demons.

'_I suppose I'll have to kill them all, too.'_

His quiet contemplation was interrupted by the sound of hooves hitting the hard earth. The noise also awakened the elves, all of them on high alert as they readied themselves for combat. The thumping grew louder and louder until, finally, its origin stopped beneath them. A small party of cavalrymen—six men strong—waited patiently below, the horses whinnying as their riders tugged at their reigns. They began to talk amongst themselves, completely unaware of the fugitives above.

"This is a good a spot as any to rest." The lead rider said. Alistair noted that out of the entire party, he was the only one with any decent armor on.

'_That's their leader.' _He concluded. Alistair thought back on the lessons his teacher gave him. _'When fighting multiple enemies, always take out their leader first. Without someone to rally them, the rabble and fodder will panic and break.'_

One of the riders groaned in relief. "Thank fuck. Gods, I'm tired."

"Right? Fucking Alistair, making us go through all this shit."

"Keeping all the pussy to himself. Selfish traitor."

One of them laughed. "I don't know. If I was in his shoes, I'd want to keep such quality women to myself too."

"Good taste, I'll give him that!"

They shared a laugh as they slipped off their mounts, walking them towards the surrounding trees and tying them to the trunks. The leader seemed to be struggling with his horse, the beast screaming as it fought his attempts to tie it down.

"Come on, you stupid animal!" He yelled in irritation. "Just do as I say and get over here!"

"What's the matter, Cole?"

"Dumb bitch keeps fighting me! It was hard enough getting on the damn thing in the first place, now I gotta deal with this bullshit?"

"Ha! I still remember her bucking you off when you first tried to ride her."

"Don't know why you chose Agro; you know she was always a feisty one. She even tries to throw off Vult!"

"It's 'cause she's the fastest horse we got. Vult wants his bitches delivered on express."

After a few minutes of struggling, the rest of the troop helped to tie down the rebellious mare. She trumpeted and brayed in discontent but could do little else. The cavalrymen got themselves situated, starting a campfire and pulling out their rations. They laughed and talked some more, oblivious of the danger hanging above them.

Alistair looked over to Chloe, seeing her nod in understanding as she quietly drew her weapons. The knight primed himself, carefully positioning himself over their leader, Cole, with his poleaxe at the ready. He gestured with his left hand, holding up three fingers.

Three.

Two.

One.

They jumped down, weapons swinging with the added force of gravity. Chloe successfully landed on top of her target, burying her blades into his back and quickly slitting his throat. Alistair was less fortunate, as Cole chose that exact moment to observe the sky, and, thus, saw Alistair's armored form. Cole rolled out of the way just in time to avoid being cleaved in half.

Alistair clicked his tongue in annoyance, wrenching the blade of his poleaxe out of the earth. He flowed seamlessly into another strike with the hammer side of his weapon, changing targets to one of the shell-shocked Black Dogs that sat next to his original mark. He struck true this time, completely crushing the man's unprotected head with a wet 'splat' and sending blood and grey matter flying.

"AMBUSH!" Cole cried, scrambling to his feet as he drew his blade. His comrades quickly followed his example, also raising their weapons towards their attackers. The Black Dogs split into pairs to take on Chloe and Alistair separately.

Chloe smirked as her two opponents ran at her recklessly, deftly parrying their wild swings. She stabbed her dagger through one's shoulder and vaulted over him, slashing open his back with her sword. The Dark Elf kicked the body into his comrade, knocking him off his feet and pinning him to the ground. She lunged, burying her blades so deeply that they penetrated both bodies.

At the same time, Cole had his follower circle around Alistair, hoping to catch him off guard as the party leader kept the knight's attention on him. Alistair parried one of Cole's strikes and swung the butt of his poleaxe upwards, catching the man in the chin. The knight followed up and jabbed the capped end of his weapon into the mercenary's forehead, sending Cole reeling back in a daze. Alistair shifted his stance, stabbing behind him and impaling the flanking Black Dog through the stomach. With a grunt of exertion, Alistair raised the man into the air and swung him headfirst into the campfire.

The Black Dog grunt screamed in panic and agony as the pain of impact was compounded by searing flesh. His hair was set alight, scorching his scalp and creating blisters on his face. Alistair ended the man's suffering with a single swing of his poleaxe, beheading the man making his flaming head roll. With just one opponent remaining, Alistair began to approach Cole, Chloe flanking the knight as she walked at his left side.

Cole, having regained his bearings, quickly backpedaled away from the duo. "S-Stay back!" He yelled in a crazed and panicked voice. "I-It doesn't have to be this way! I can help you! I can be your informant, your inside man!"

Elf and man continued their advanced, ignoring Cole's words. He continued to step backwards, all of his focus on the approaching menace. The Black Dog heard a huff of air behind him, and his world soon turned forever black.

Agro snorted as she lowered her hind leg back to the ground, wiping away the blood that stained her hoof. Her rider fell forward, the back of his head caved in by the mare's powerful kick. Chloe whistled appreciatively.

"What a marvelous kick," She praised. "It was almost textbook."

Alistair grunted in agreement. Now illuminated by the campfire, the horse's features were revealed. She was a large horse, about as tall as Alistair. The mare sported a majestic greyish-black coat with a beautiful pitch-black crest and tail. At the center of its head was a patch of white fur shaped like a diamond.

"She's a beautiful horse," Alistair said, slowly approaching the mare. "See how her coat shines under this meager light? It's a sign of good blood, if her lean build were not obvious enough. So much power condensed in such a lithe frame. Long, strong legs that allow her to reach higher speeds in a shorter amount of time. She has all the makings of a warhorse of the highest pedigree."

The mare preened at his words, nickering happily. When Alistair was within arm's reach, he raised an open hand towards Agro. The horse nuzzled his proffered hand, burying her head into his palm.

"Hmph, if only you could sweet-talk a woman like that." Chloe huffed. As ridiculous as it was, the blonde elf felt a twinge of jealousy from how enamored Alistair was with the animal. "How do you know so much about horses?"

"Samantha's family raised them," He explained while petting Agro. "Whenever we played at her homestead, she would always tell me everything she knew about them." He drew away from Agro, the mare whining as the knight began looting the corpses; Chloe following his lead.

They found enough food and water to last them the rest of their journey, as well as few stamina potions. Feed for the horses were strapped to their saddles, enough to last each horse two days. The fugitives decided to leave the bedrolls, not wanting luxury items to weigh them down.

Alistair turned to Chloe. "We should use this opportunity to get some more distance between us and the Black Dogs. Now that we have horses, we should be able to cross the border in a day and a half."

Chloe nodded in agreement, moving to help Olga down from the treetops as Alistair packed up their newfound supplies. Alistair set three of the horses free, keeping Agro and two others tethered for the moment as he put on their saddles. The Dark Elves approached just after he finished his work, releasing the horses from their restraints.

"I'm very thankful to have you two at my side," Olga said appreciatively. "I doubt I would have made it this far without both of your help."

Chloe bowed before her black-haired counterpart. "I live to serve you, My Queen."

Alistair did likewise. "It is nothing, Olga." He stood back up, affectionately patting Agro's flank. "Let me help you up. She is larger than most horses, so mounting her might require some assistance."

Olga nodded, meeting the mare's gaze. To all their surprise, Agro turned her nose up at Olga, causing Chloe to frown. Olga giggled good-naturedly, turning to Alistair with a mirthful expression.

"I don't believe she'll let me ride her." She said. The mare huffed in affirmation, craning her neck to nudge Alistair with her snout.

"I see…" He stroked the underside of Agro's neck, earning a grunt of pleasure from the horse. "So that's how it is."

Both Olga and Chloe smiled fondly as they read Alistair's body language. The knight was happy that the magnificent mount deemed him worthy of being her rider. Olga bowed out gracefully as she and Chloe mounted the other horses. Alistair stepped up the stirrup and swung his leg over the horse's back, looking much like a wounded, beaten hedge knight.

Once everyone was saddled up, the trio rode into the night; their escape being all but assured.

**-]|[-**

_**Codex Entry: Albion Aquila**_

_**Notable Relations: Son of Alaric Aquila and Crossbreed Priscilla, Ex-Husband of Lady Elfriede, Father of Alto Aquila**_

_**Notable Titles: The Oathbreaker, The Atoner**_

_**Albion was born a rebellious child, always questioning his duties and rejecting them on a whim. When he grew of age, Albion ran away from home; rejecting the fate he was destined to have since birth and taking on a new name; Sir Vilhem. Remembering the stories of the Painted World, Albion sought out the painting where his parents met and eagerly entered it. He found that the world was not quite as his mother described it, learning from various inhabitants that the world was no longer Ariamis, but Ariandel; named after the one who restored the Painted World after Ariamis had been burned away.**_

_**He journeyed to meet Ariandel, coming upon a chapel at the highest peak of the world. There, he met the lady Elfriede, the caretaker of the Painted World and advisor to Father Ariandel. He learned of the future destined for the realm, a fate of fire that had also ended the cycle of Ariamis. Swearing to help prevent the end to the current cycle, Albion became Elfriede's most loyal servant. Time and time again, whenever someone sought to bring fire to the world, Albion struck them down with ruthless efficiency, continuing on for what seemed like years. **_

_**Albion and Elfriede became enamored with each other during that time, loyalty and companionship evolving into affection and love. Elfriede bore a son**_—_**Alto, the third son of Aquila. With his family established, Albion had thought his life content. Alas, he soon found out the reason why Ariandel was destined for flame: The world was beginning to rot.**_

_**The rot began to consume the inhabitants of the world, decaying them in mind, body, and soul until they were naught but mindless, malformed beasts. Seeing that the rot was beginning to afflict Alto, Albion decided to flee the Painted World with his son. Coming into conflict with his love and liege Elfriede, Albion was forced to slay the mother of his child; unintentionally setting fire to the world and cleansing it of the rot. **_

_**Albion returned home to his family a changed man. No longer was he a rebellious youth, instead becoming a faithful servant of Celestine Lucross as he was born to be. He spent the rest of his life seeking atonement for his past actions, serving as one of the most dutiful heads of House Aquila.**_

**-]|[-**

**Some more background knowledge about our boi Alistair and his family. Also, yes, it's Agro from Shadow of the Colossus. Figured a knight would need a suitable mount.**

**Been getting a few messages about lemons. I ask that you all be patient, all right? I know that this series is notorious for sexy times, but I don't want them to be the focus of this story. They will come, I promise. So please, stop asking when.**

**Edit: 3/1/2020**

**Forgot to add the codex entry Orz**

**Translations:**

"**Mala ultro adsunt." – "Misfortune comes uninvited."**

"**Te secabo!" – "I will cut you to pieces! / I will sever you!"**

**The above translations were taken directly from the For Honor Wiki.**


	6. Home Sweet Home

Dead flora and barren earth gave way to lush greenery and fertile soil as Alistair's party finally exited the Badlands. They had encountered a few corrupted beasts, but they were not significantly slowed down. They had arrived at the border after a day and a half, just as Alistair predicted. The knight had informed Celestine about their newly acquired mounts and their new arrival time, so now they were to wait for the border patrol to meet up with them.

They unsaddled their horses, letting them graze at the edge of the forest for some fresh grass. Agro didn't stray too far from Alistair, the majestic mare always making sure the man was in sight. Said man leaned against a nearby tree, relaxed but ready to spring into action. Above him, Chloe lazed about the tree's branches, taking the moment to enjoy nature's beauty. Olga sat next to Alistair, a content smile on her face as her eyes closed in bliss.

"It has been too long," She said, "I had forgotten just how refreshing it is to feel such abundant natural energy. It reminds me of better, simpler times." She turned to Alistair, looking up to her warden with a nostalgic gaze, smiling warmly at him.

Alistair glanced down at Olga, catching her beaming in full. He felt heat rush to his cheeks, entranced by the Dark Elf's brilliant expression.

"Is that so?" He muttered.

Feeling the knight's gaze on her, Olga nodded. "I remember the times when Celestine, Alberich, and I would play in the Lucross Royal Gardens. We would always pretend to go on adventures, slaying great and legendary beasts: Celestine was an archbishop, I was a powerful sorceress, and Alberich was our knight in shining armor."

Alistair nodded along as he sifted through Alberich's memory of the event. "Hmm, according to Alberich's memories, you set King Oberon's lilies aflame after showing off your newly learned Firebolt spell."

"He remembers incorrectly." She denied almost instantly. "Such a thing never happened."

"Ah. I see," He said coolly. "Then I suppose him comforting you and taking the blame also never happened."

"… All right, so maybe it did happen."

Chloe tried to stifle her laughter in vain, small giggles escaping their eavesdropper from above. Both Alistair and Olga stared up at the blonde elf with amused looks.

"I'm sorry, milady," Chloe apologized, "But I could not help myself. I did not expect such a reaction from you."

"It's fine, Chloe," Olga replied. She turned to regard Alistair once more. "Speaking of magic, how is it that you were able to heal yourself, Alistair?"

"That's right," Chloe joined in. "We had thought you pegged for death back at the dungeon. Then, miraculously, you were healed by some sort of spell I've never seen before."

Alistair shifted slightly. "Miraculous… Yes, _that_ was what he called it. A miracle called Great Heal."

The Dark Elves shared a look. "Who are you talking about?" Chloe asked.

"My ancestor, Albion," He answered them. "Through his memories, I was able to learn all of his spells: One of which included Great Heal."

"You've learned his _entire _spell arsenal!?" Olga asked, astonished by the claim.

Alistair nodded confirmation. "Not only his. I've also learned Alberich's and Alaric's as well."

"Their memories," Olga said in realization. "You've experienced their entire lifetimes, of course you would have knowledge of their spells!" Her eyes glinted with excitement. "Would you care to demonstrate some for me?"

Alistair contemplated her request for a moment, then nodded. "I suppose. It will be a good opportunity to test some of them, at the very least."

The brunette stood up, positively giddy as she pulled Alistair away from his resting spot; Chloe hopping down from her spot to join them. The knight allowed himself to be pulled into the open plains where the horses fed. Satisfied with their clearance space. Olga let Alistair go and turned to face him.

"Let's start with a few simple ones. Alberich favored spells that improved his combat abilities rather than damaging ones. I believe he often used Sacred Oath and Blessed Weapon: The former improved his physical endurance and strength, while the latter imbued his weapon with holy energy; increasing its damaging capabilities and granting its wielder a small regeneration factor. Relatively easy spells, if I do say so myself. Surely if you can cast Great Heal, then you can cast those two."

"Is that so…" Alistair muttered quietly. He closed his eyes as he called upon the memories of his oldest ancestor. Various memories came to the fore of Alberich casting the miracles, often just before engaging in battle. Though the recollections were not his own, his body was tricked into believing they were. Muscle memory took over, and Alistair was soon mimicking his ancestor's movements; raising his poleaxe into the air as he began with Sacred Oath.

He felt _something_—he assumed it was mana—circulate throughout his body as a small runic circle appeared beneath him. Golden energy rose from the circle, twirling around him from the bottom up. The familiar weight of his armor disappeared, the knight feeling his muscles bulging slightly underneath the fabric of his garments.

An inquisitive "Hmm?" left him as Olga gently grabbed his raised arm and coiled herself around it. She gave him a teasing look, bordering on seductive as she then lifted herself off the ground, bearing her full weight down on the appendage. To Alistair's surprise, his arm barely budged: It was very much like a child was hanging off his arm, and not a fully-grown woman.

Content for now, Olga released him, dropping back down to the ground. She squeezed his arm, smiling at the firmness she felt before letting go. "Very nice, Alistair. Very nice indeed." She looked over to her fellow elf. "Would you like to try, Chloe?"

The blonde flushed, averting her gaze as she nodded. Being significantly more dexterous than the royal, Chloe managed to balance herself atop his arm, standing to her full height. Again, his arm barely moved under her weight, and Alistair still felt comfortable holding her up for an extended period of time.

"Enjoying yourself?" He asked, looking up at her. Now that Chloe was so close, Alistair couldn't help but examine her body in-depth. She was lithe and lean, muscular but still supple. Her exposed navel revealed a slight six-pack. His eyes trailed up to her modest bust, barely covered by her strange and rather skimpy top. He wondered if they would be firmer and perter than Olga's, due to her more athletic build.

Chloe was going to respond but suddenly felt an urge to cover herself as a wave of self-consciousness washed over her. The Dark Elf looked down at the knight, seeing him stare up at her and quickly flustered. She wrapped her arms around her chest abruptly, the action throwing off her balance. She tried to correct herself to no avail and soon began to fall. She closed her eyes, fully expecting to hit the ground.

Instead, she felt strong arms catch her in a bridal carry. Chloe opened her eyes and was met with the sight of Alistair's battered helm. She could feel his worried gaze on her, and she couldn't help but blush.

"Are you all right?" Alistair asked her. Chloe nodded silently, quickly scurrying away to Olga's side once the knight set her down; the brunette giggling softly at her servant's embarrassment. Alistair's confused gaze lingered on Chloe's retreating form for a moment before bringing it down to stare at his poleaxe. It was time for Blessed Weapon.

He ran his left hand down the length of the polearm, mana pooling at his palm. It coated the poleaxe in a bright white energy that lingered even after he pulled away his hand. Removing his gauntlet, he made a shallow cut against his exposed palm using the blade of his weapon. The wound bled slightly, but was slowly mended the by the magic within the polearm. He looked over to Olga, who nodded in satisfaction.

"Well done," She praised, "How are you feeling? Do you feel tired at all?"

The knight took a moment to appraise his current status before shaking his head. "No. I feel completely fine."

Olga raised a brow in surprise. "Really? I would have expected at least some minor drain after casting both spells, at least from a novice spellcaster such as yourself. I suppose you must have a large well of mana to draw from. Fitting, considering your heritage."

Chloe stared at the glowing polearm with fascination. "How long do these enhancement spells last?"

"I don't remember them lasting longer than an hour each," Olga replied

"Let's move on to a proper combat spell. One of Alaric's favorite spells was Lightning Spear: A spell that creates a bolt of lightning in the caster's hand that can then be hurled at the enemy. He held such a degree of mastery over the spell that he improved and strengthened it, creating the stronger Sunlight Spear. I would recommend casting Lightning Spear first, though if you're able to manage Sunlight Spear then that will prove a great boon."

The knight grunted, sifting through the memories of his ancestor for the miracle. His mind flashed white as one jumped out at him.

**-]|[-**

_Alaric stared up at the towering drake, watching it take to the skies with a flap of its mighty wings. It roared tauntingly at him, seemingly untouchable in the air. Utilizing its aerial advantage, the drake let loose a torrent of fire down on the man. He stood unflinching against the flames, raising his enchanted shield to part the drake's fire breath to the sides. Unable to sustain its attack, the drake ceased its flame-spewing to take in more air, allowing him to retaliate._

_He reared his arm back, electricity surging in his palm as his mana fed into the spell. The errant, chaotic branches of lightning coalesced into the shape of a javelin. The bolt of lightning grew hotter and brighter as he pumped more mana into the miracle, becoming a blinding gold as it reached its peak power. With a ferocious cry, he hurled his Sunlight Spear; the spell crossing the distance between him and the drake almost instantaneously._

_The bolt of plasma melted through the drake's resilient scales and embedded itself into the creature's heart, cooking flesh and evaporating the blood within. The drake began careening down to earth once more, crashing down and causing small tremors on impact._

**-]|[-**

Before he knew it, Alistair was already copying Alaric's movements. Feeling the pull of mana into his palm, Alistair watched as a javelin of magical plasma formed in his hand. It crackled and sparked, his control over the spell not quite as refined as Alaric's. Unable to hold the bolt any longer, Alistair threw it into the sky. The spell parted the clouds it passed through as the smell of ozone spread throughout the area.

"Unbelievable…" Olga whispered in awe. "Sunlight Spear, on your first try…"

Chloe clapped excitedly, having very much enjoyed the spectacle. "That was amazing!"

"Incredibilis…" Alistair panted quietly, looking back and forth between the parted clouds and his hand. A sense of euphoria washed over him, the knight feeling galvanized despite the slight drain from the spell. '_So that's what casting magic is like,' _he thought, '_I can see why magic casters always toss themselves into the study of arcane arts: Being able to hold such power at your beck and call is an addicting sensation.'_

The fatigue he felt from casting the spell was some strange mix of physical and mental fatigue. He had experienced worse on both extremes, however, so it was nothing he couldn't handle. Still, he doubted he could withstand using Sunlight Spear more than a few more times without becoming completely exhausted.

He turned to Olga. "Is there anything else you'd like to see?"

His words snapped the Dark Elf Queen out of her star-struck stare. She took a moment to compose herself before replying, "Yes, one last spell; or, rather, bloodline ability: Lifehunt."

"Lifehunt… The ability that made the gods so weary of Crossbreed Priscilla?"

Olga nodded. "Only her direct descendants are able to wield that power. Albion went to great lengths to master the ability, becoming rather notorious for his use of it."

"What exactly does Lifehunt do that makes the ability so feared?"

"On mortal enemies, it curses them with hemophilia, causing wounds that will almost never stop bleeding. However, its most powerful and dreaded aspect is its ability to imbibe the life essence of its victims, sapping their strength and turning it into your own. One with the power of Lifehunt may very well be able to steal a god's divinity. Is that not a terrifying thought?"

"I suppose it is," He admitted with a nod, "Then, I shall have to take great care in using it."

Alistair dove into Albion's memories this time, quickly coming across several instances of Lifehunt's use. In a similar manner to how he cast Blessed Weapon, the knight ran his hand down the length of his poleaxe. The white light of Blessed Weapon was removed, his polearm becoming nearly transparent—almost spectral—while frost encased random spots of it. A cold mist began to leak off the weapon, chilling the air around it.

As soon as the effect began, Alistair collapsed on a knee, panting as if he just ran a marathon. Both Olga and Chloe rushed to his side with concern etched on their faces. Even Agro, who watched from afar, swiftly trotted up to her rider.

"Alistair!" Chloe shouted. "Are you all right? What happened?"

He felt like he was about to vomit, so he didn't verbally respond. The knight managed to shake his head, feeling sweat drip from his brow. His vision was spotted with black dots and his head throbbed fiercely. _'What's happening to me?'_

Olga quickly recognized his symptoms, cursing under her breath. She turned to Chloe with a calm gaze. "He's suffering from mana exhaustion. Quickly, help me move him onto the horse. Alistair, make sure you don't let go of your weapon: Its imbuement will dispel, and you'll be stuck like this for the rest of the day."

Alistair managed a weak nod, weakly climbing onto Agro's back with the Dark Elves' assistance; wrapping his left arm around the mare's neck. Agro made sure not to jostle him too much as Olga directed them back to the tree-line.

Olga had them stop in front of one of the larger trees and had Chloe help the knight off his steed. Chloe had to stand behind Alistair to brace him, as he struggled to stay on his feet with his own power. Olga slapped her palm against the trunk of the tree, looking directly into Alistair's eyes.

"Strike this tree with your weapon," She commanded him, "Take its life essence for your own!"

Alistair grunted softly, shakily raising his poleaxe into the air. He let gravity swing it down for him, the bladed head of his weapon burying an inch into the tree's trunk. Sap began to leak out from the cut almost instantly, and, to Alistair's surprise, he began to feel much better. In fact, as more time passed, he began to feel even better than he had this morning.

His vision clear once more, he turned his eyes to the tree he struck. The bark around the cut he made was blackened, almost rotting, as copious amounts of sap poured out of the wound. The rot began to spread, soon decaying even the tree's extremities: The tree visibly began to wither, its leaves quickly losing their lush green color and turning a crisp brown, and easily detaching from the branches as a gentle breeze blew through them.

They all stared in grim fascination as the large tree that once stood proud and healthy wither and die in a matter of mere minutes. Now able to stand on his own power, Alistair stepped away from Chloe's hold; the blonde finding herself slightly missing the contact. The knight wrenched his poleaxe from the deadwood, finding that the residual sap was actually being absorbed into the frosted polearm. As the last of the sap was consumed, the weapon lost its spectral, chilling aura; becoming a normal weapon once more. He tentatively ran a finger along the bevel of the axe head, the appendage gliding smoothly across the metal and not feeling any residual cold and stickiness.

He turned to Olga with an inquisitive gaze. "That feeling of absolute exhaustion… I've not felt such a thing in years. What caused it?"

"Mana exhaustion," Olga explained," A very debilitating state caused by overdrawing from one's mana pool. Your body will begin to shut down and enter a comatose state to try and replenish its mana. I hadn't thought that casting Lifehunt would bring you to that point. I should have expected such a powerful ability to have an equally exorbitant cost."

"How did Albion make it look so easy?" Alistair muttered under his breath, thinking back to the countless memories he had of his ancestor.

Superior Elven hearing heard his words, Olga reassured the knight. "Albion's divine-draconic heritage flowed strongly within his veins; you merely have the lingering vestiges of it. Your blood is not as pure as his was, so it would make sense that your base abilities would not match his, even if you do have his memories."

"I see…" The knight was slightly disappointed but agreed with her logical reasoning: Even if he had the muscle memory of his ancestors, he did not possess their bodies; bodies that they spent years honing and training to perform powerful techniques far beyond his usual scope.

The Dark Elves' ears perked as they looked beyond the horizon, prompting Alistair to follow their gazes as well. In the distance, a platoon of men in silver armor rode towards the tree-line; the soft thumping of hooves and the slight clank of meta reaching a crescendo as they drew closer. The banner and sigil of the Seven Shield Alliance flew high above them.

Chloe's lips thinned, a pensive expression on her face. She had to fight the instinctive urge to draw her blade against the oncoming Alliance soldiers, her hands gripped tightly at her sides. Olga was better at hiding her grudges, merely narrowing her eyes, but otherwise maintaining a neutral look. Agro whinnied loudly, calling the other two horses back to their party in preparation for the newcomers. Alistair stepped forward to meet the troop, recognizing their lead rider.

"Hello, Knight-Commander Levantine," Alistair greeted with a slight bow of his head, "It is good to see you in good health."

Claudia looked down upon the knight's battered form and grimaced slightly. "I wish I could say the same, Sir Alistair. Your armor has seen better days."

"My armor is damaged, but I am not. I assure you." His tone became inquisitive. "I'm surprised to see you here. Are you here at Queen Lucross's personal request?"

The fair-skinned woman nodded. "That is part of the reason, yes. Our Queen wanted to ensure your safe return once you passed into our borders."

"And the other reason?"

She turned her gaze towards the Dark Elves with a tense expression. "Your prisoners are very high-value targets. I wanted to make sure they were taken into custody under my own supervision."

"Is that so?"

"Even if Queen Lucross has yet to decide a punishment for them, Olga Discordia is ultimately responsible for thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of human deaths; both civilian and military. If not punishment, then there must be some sort of reparations." Claudia's hardened stare locked with the Dark Elves behind him. "And I intend to collect."

Olga rolled her eyes, placing a hand on Chloe's shoulder to calm the blonde; who glowered at the Princess Knight. "Posture and threaten us all you want, but it is ultimately Celestine's decision to determine our fate. Honestly, I dread to think what would happen if such an aggressive, brutish race such as yours lived any longer than you already do."

Claudia grit her teeth, not rising to the bait. She turned back to Alistair. "Saddle your horses and follow us. If all goes well, we'll be back in Ken by tomorrow morning."

**-]|[-**

The journey back to the City Fortress of Ken was quick and uneventful, if not a bit intense. Alistair's companions were often the targets of scathing glares and hushed insults, even if the Dark Elves never acknowledged them beyond trivial annoyances: "It's as if a dozen babies were crying at once and their mothers did nothing to calm them," or so Olga told him.

Claudia had kept him abreast of the Black Dog situation. Celestine had passed along his warnings to the rest of the Princess Knights, who've agreed to hold a conference in Ken to discuss the betrayal in full detail. Olga and Chloe's fate would be determined there.

They finally arrived at their destination around noon, slightly behind schedule. The Dark Elves were given hooded cloaks to help mask their identities from the commonfolk, so as to prevent a potential mob from forming. Their retinue passed through the gates unchallenged, the guards instantly recognizing Claudia and allowing them easy entry. They continued on to the White Citadel, where the conference was being held.

The party stopped at the royal stables to drop off their horses before moving on the castle interior. Many of the stable boys' jaws dropped at the sight of Agro, for they had never seen such a beautiful horse before. Alistair dismounted the mare, affectionately petting her flank as he handed her reigns over to one of the stable boys. Agro snorted softly as she was led away from the knight.

Most of the retinue dispersed after dropping off their mounts, leaving only Alistair's party and Claudia left. She led them through the castle doors, navigating through the interior and eventually stopping in front of a set of white double-doors; flanked by two guards. They saluted their knight-commander, pushing open the doors for their entourage and revealing the room within.

Sat at a round table in the center of the room were Celestine and the rest of the Princess Knights. To Celestine's right sat a fair-skinned girl with waist-length blonde hair and blueish-purple eyes. She seemed to be in her late teens. Her hair was accessorized by a white hairband and hair clips. She wore plate armor that covered her limbs and hips, with a blue dress that covered her torso—though it left her navel exposed—and ended with a ruffled white skirt. She held an air of gallant ferocity, like a young warrior eager for a fight.

She was Alicia Arcturus, the Knight of Iris, and the only child of King Eos.

Next to her was a girl who looked to be of a similar age to the blonde, if not a few years her junior. Long, wavy, pink hair fell cascaded down her back; decorated with a golden ornament tied to her hair with red ribbons. Her pale-white skin brought out her big, blue eyes. Along with her round, cherub-like face; and elegant white dress, she very much looked the part of a princess.

Her name was Prim Fiorire, Alicia's younger cousin.

The next Princess Knight sat in stark contrast to Prim. The woman seemed to be in her early twenties, yet carried herself with the air of a seasoned veteran. She had short rose-red hair and angry amber eyes. She was dressed in a form-fitting red jacket with a furred collar—Alistair couldn't help but notice how her breasts strained against the fabric and threatened to spill out— and blue jeans with knee-high leather boots. Everything about the woman screamed 'rogue'.

The woman's name was Maia, the Queen of Mercenaries.

Beside her was the smallest of the Princess Knights, and the one most easily confused for the youngest based on her stature. In reality, she was among the oldest of the group, only beat out by Celestine and her elven longevity. This woman was a Halfling, an all-female race that only developed to the size of a human child. Orange hair fell no lower than her neck, all but her sidelocks and bangs being stylized into ringlets. Her outfit consisted of a two-piece set of leather armor with fur trim, white stockings and elbow-length gloves, a forest green mantle, and a large green hat—the last two garments each had twin fur puffballs dangling from red ribbons. Her vibrant maroon eyes belied an unspeakable amount of intellect.

Her name was Lulu, leader of the Halflings.

Finally, sat to Celestine's left, was the last of the Princess Knights. She was the most exotic of the humans, hailing from the Far Eastern lands of Eostia. Short black hair fell to the base of her neck, contrasting nicely with her pale skin and red eyes. She was dressed in a red kosode— tied just under her bust to expose her slim stomach—and a long pink skirt; with a coiled white cloth fastening it to her waist. The woman's head was topped with a large, regal ornament; and a long, translucent shawl was draped over her shoulders. She possessed an air of serenity and grace, matching the calm expression on her face.

She was the Shrine Maiden Kaguya.

These women, alongside Celestine and Claudia, made up the Princess Knights, the seven leaders of the Seven Shield Alliance.

"Ah, Claudia, Sir Alistair," Celestine greeted them with a smile, "I am glad that you have arrived back safely. And Queen Discordia, Chloe," The High Elf's gaze shifted to the Dark Elves, her smile taking on a nostalgic aspect as she looked upon Olga's form. "Let me be the first to welcome you to into the White Citadel." She gestured to an open chair at her left, between her and Kaguya. "Please, take a seat."

Chloe pulled out the chair for her liege, waiting until Olga was sat comfortably before pushing it in again. The roguish Dark Elf stood at her queen's right, returning the glares sent by some of the Princess Knights. Alistair walked past Chloe, subtly brushing his fingers against Chloe tightened fists as he moved to stand at Celestine's side. Chloe relaxed slightly, her hostile expression turning to one of stoicism to match Olga's.

Claudia took the open seat between Alicia and Celestine, her steely countenance softened somewhat by the familiar faces around her. Alistair himself received a few curious looks from the women at the table. He maintained a relaxed stance, though he was wary of the hostile looks sent at the Dark Elves.

Celestine clapped her hands together, gathering everyone's attention. "Now that we are all here, let me introduce you all to my newest knight: Sir Alistair Aquila."

Both Alicia and Prim let out a small gasp at his surname. "That hedge knight is an Aquila!?" Alicia shouted in surprise, her thoughts flowing directly from brain to mouth.

All eyes turned to her in shock, and in the case of the Elves—including even Celestine—scathing glares. Alicia's eyes widened horror, realizing what she just said before shrinking in on herself in embarrassment. "A-Ah, forgive my outburst, Sir Alistair. I-"

Alistair raised a hand to stop her. "It is fine. I admit I do not particularly cut the most dashing figure in my current state."

His words eased the young woman slightly, Alicia sighing in relief for being let off so easily.

"As I was saying," Celestine continued, "Sir Alistair is a former member of the Black Dog Mercenaries, serving under them since the Battle of Ostagoth. He is the reason why Queen Discordia stands before us today. Sir Alistair, if you could give them a personal account of what happened since your knighting?"

Alistair nodded before giving them a summary of what happened. "Roughly three weeks ago, I was tasked with the capture of Olga Discordia, who was to be returned to the City Fortress of Ken unharmed. I traveled with the Black Dogs and laid siege to the Black Citadel, swiftly capturing the stronghold due to severely lacking garrison force. There, Queen Olga Discordia and her attendant Chloe surrendered themselves into my custody. We occupied the Black Citadel for some time, both to loot the fortress and to rest and allow our wounded to heal. However, during that time, Vult had begun to recruit whatever demons that they came across into the company."

A fist slammed into the table, cutting off Alistair and drawing attention to its owner. Maia scowled at the knight as she pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You're lying! Vult would never recruit demons into the Black Dogs!"

"Maia!" Claudia shouted. "Restrain yourself! Let Sir Alistair finish before you pass judgment!"

Growling slightly, Maia acquiesced to Claudia's order and lowered her arm. Alistair waited for Celestine to nod before continuing.

"When I had confronted Vult about our prolonged stay, he told me of his plans to form a new country, using the Black Citadel as his stronghold. He would bolster his forces with demonic might and wage war on the Seven Shield Alliance. He wanted to establish a Sex Empire, where men dominated the women and forced them to do whatever the men wished. Vult would plunge Eostia into an era of debauchery because he believes that men should be the sovereign authority, and not women.

"He had invited me to join him, and I accepted, though only because I intended to escape with Queen Discordia and Chloe afterwards. Vult tested my loyalty by having me beat into submission by an orc, hence the current state of my armor. Despite my injuries, I was still able to escape with the Dark Elves and meet up with Knight-Commander Levantine. We arrived back in Ken earlier this afternoon, and now we stand here before you."

"Are you finished?" Maia asked tersely, her arms crossed impatiently. "Because I won't listen to another word of your tripe. Do you even listen to yourself? Your bullshit story has you painted as the heroic victim while a true hero is demonized!"

"Because he is no better than a demon," Alistair replied simply.

Maia jumped out of her seat, absolutely livid at his words. "Say that again, you bastard! I dare you!"

"Vult is no better than a demon. None of the Black Dogs are."

Maia lunged at the knight from her spot at the table. Or, at least attempted to. Lulu quickly pinned the taller woman to the table, holding her arms behind her back.

"For such a seasoned warrior, you sure let your emotions get the best of you," Lulu said derisively. The smaller woman had no trouble restraining Maia despite their size difference: A testament to the Halfling's monstrous strength.

Maia struggled to escape Lulu's grip, attempting to squirm closer to Alistair. "Let me go, Lulu! This bastard has it coming to him!"

Claudia stood from her seat, incensed by the redhead's attempted assault. "This is unacceptable behavior! We know that you once served under Vult as well, but do not let your nostalgia blind you!"

"Then what about Celestine?" Maia shouted. "She shows such favor to this man who just happens to share a name with a dead noble house! Do you not see the hypocrisy here? How can you all so easily trust his word when he is so obviously seeking to make a name for himself?"

Chloe slammed her hands on the table, glaring at the Queen of Mercenaries. "Alistair is a more honorable man than your precious Vult could ever hope to be! He tells nothing but the truth! You weren't there, you didn't see how close to death he was, the lengths he went through to protect Lady Olga and me!"

"Having you defend him does nothing for his credibility, Dark Elf!" Maia spat heatedly. "If anything, it only proves my point! Do you all not see how readily she defends him? Last time I checked, all Dark Elves hated humans with a passion! Does this not prove that he is not to be trusted? This is all some ploy to get us to turn on each other."

"That is enough," Celestine stated decisively, her visage adopting a cold demeanor. The High Elf's authoritative voice forced everyone's attention on her, all of them startled by the harshness of her tone. Lulu released Maia and returned to her seat. Celestine trained her eyes on the mercenary, the Princess Knight quailing under the High Queen's gaze.

"Maia, given your history with Vult and the Black Dogs, I knew this news would be hard for you to accept. That's why I procured this in advance."

With a snap of her fingers, a hexagonal mirror floated away from the wall behind her, coming to a stop at the center of the table and revealing its double-sided nature. Celestine turned to Alistair and place a hand on his helmeted head.

"Sir Alistair, please try to remember everything that you've just told us. It will be projected on the mirror and allow us to experience what you experienced. This will prove the truth of your words."

Alistair did as she asked, recalling everything from the start of his knighthood, omitting only the parts that dealt with his power of recollection. Celestine's hand glowed softly, coming away from the knight's head with a small orb of ethereal energy. She placed the orb against the glass of the mirror, everyone watching in fascination as the mirror absorbed the orb greedily and began to glow with a similar energy. Then, images began to move across the glass, sound accompanying them as Alistair's memories were played for all to see.

Most of the audience was enthralled by events that danced across the screen, gaining a newfound respect for Alistair's combat prowess as they experienced the battles and fights he was a part of. When it came to Vult's confession, almost all the women gained furious and dark expressions. The sole exception Maia, who could only stare slack-jawed as her hero and love revealed his true colors. The beating that followed caused the Elves to grit their teeth as their hate for Vult turned into absolute loathing.

The images faded as Alistair's memories came to an end. Maia fell back into her seat, her face frozen in an expression of shock as she was forced to accept the truth: That her former commander was now their enemy. "I… No, but… Vult?"

Chloe took on a cruel smile. "Hmph, perhaps you should choose your heroes better."

Maia didn't reply, her mind racing with too many thoughts to even register the Dark Elf's words.

Celestine gathered everyone's attention once more. "Now that we have irrefutable proof of the Black Dogs' treason, we must prepare for battle once again."

"How horrible," Prim said sadly, "Another war, so soon after the last."

Alicia gave Prim's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Don't worry Prim. We'll end this war swiftly. It won't take centuries like the last, I promise."

Lulu grinned with barely restrained excitement. "I can't wait! I barely got to do any fighting in the last war!"

"I believe there must be something that must be addressed before we think of battle plans," Kaguya said stoically. The shrine maiden stared at the Dark Elves present in the room with silent contempt. Olga remained nonplussed, meeting Kaguya's gaze with her own quiet disdain.

"She's right," Claudia agreed, "We cannot afford to leave any loose ends. Olga Discordia's punishment must be determined here and now."

"She should be burned at the stake, like the witch she is," Alicia stated heatedly.

"I know of pre-battle rituals that require a live sacrifice." Kaguya offered.

"Impale her on a spike for all I care," Maia said in a hollow voice.

Prim seemed more nauseous with each idea. "Can… Can we not just imprison her for life?"

Alicia turned to her cousin with a stern face. "Countless lives have been lost due to Discordia's grudge against humanity. She has to face the consequences, Prim. Surely you understand that?"

A sullen look fell over Prim's face. "I do, but… "

Celestine closed her eyes, unable to bear looking upon her childhood friend as her comrades discussed her execution. Chloe seemed distressed, wanting to say something in defense but knowing that her opinion would not matter. Olga, for her part, kept a neutral expression. She had figured that this would come to pass, but it was better than whatever fate she would experience at Vult's hands.

"Enlist her help."

All turned to the sole man in the room with looks of curiosity and incredulity. When no one responded to him, Alistair explained his reasoning.

"Queen Discordia would be of better use to us alive than dead. As the former ruler of the Badlands and the Black Citadel, her knowledge of the land and the Citadel's defenses would be an invaluable asset to any offensive excursion we may launch. Additionally, her knowledge of the demons that formerly served her would help us better prepare our troops for general conflict against Vult's forces."

"You can't possibly be serious!" Alicia shouted angrily. "This woman has caused humanity untold suffering for centuries! Where's the justice in letting her live?"

"Where's the justice for those endangered by this current threat?" Alistair countered smoothly. "We can't change what happened to those who have already perished. We cannot save them. Willingly reducing our ability to combat Vult's ambitions for the sake of past grudges is not only illogical, but it is also unfair for the people who stand to suffer now."

His argument silenced the blonde knight, who gritted her teeth in a seething rage. Prim took one of Alicia's hands into her own, attempting to soothe her cousin. It seemed to work, Alicia relaxing her tightened fists and jaw ever so slightly.

The Elves gave Alistair thankful looks and smiles, very glad that the knight had defended Olga so fiercely.

"… He has a point," Lulu said after a moment. "What's the point of not using every resource we have to our advantage? Sounds pretty stupid if you think about it."

Claudia hung her head as she too nodded, albeit reluctantly. "As loathe as I am to admit it, Sir Alistair is right. Our duty is to protect the people who live today and not those that lived in centuries past."

"Hmm… Fine." Kaguya relented, her stoic expression never once changing.

"Sure, whatever," Maia said non-committedly.

Celestine turned to the Dark Elves. "What say you, Olga? Will you aid us?"

Olga scoffed, flipping some stray hair behind her ear. "It's not as if I have much of a choice. If I refuse, I either die or wallow away in some prison." There was a vindictive glint in her eyes as she continued. "Though I would be glad to turn those filthy mercenaries into cinders and ash."

"Then we are all in agreement?" Celestine asked, scanning the room for opposition and finding none. She gave a satisfied nod. "Good. Then we can begin to strategize."

"We have the numerical advantage," Alicia stated, "I propose we march the armies of Feoh, Ur, and Rad to the Black Citadel and end this in one fell swoop."

"Swift, efficient, and brutal," Lulu grinned, "I like it."

"It will not be that easy," Alistair said, the Dark Elves nodding at his words.

The Princess Knights looked perplexed. "What do you mean, Sir Alistair?" Claudia asked.

"The only reason why the Black Citadel fell in the first place was that it was severely undermanned. Now that the largest mercenary company in all of Eostia occupies it, along with the might of Vult's newly acquired demonic horde, it will require the forces of at least five of the City Fortresses to have any hope of penetrating their defenses. It would be a prolonged siege, long enough for whatever hidden Black Dog cells they may have to strike at the undefended fortresses."

"More traitors…" Alicia seethed at the thought.

Claudia's brow furrowed in thought. "We'll need to do a complete sweep of our security detail and personnel for any double agents and spies."

"So what, we just wait for them to make the first move?" Lulu frowned.

Alistair nodded. "Exactly. As Claudia suggested, we must root out any spies and turncoats from our midst. Additionally, we'll need to bolster our own forces and defenses. We cannot afford to be caught unawares by Vult's scheming."

"But who would ever subscribe to such a heinous ideology?" Prim questioned. Her words gave Alistair pause.

"Cui bono… "Alistair muttered. He was silent for a moment. "… Men. Ambitious, lustful men. Maybe even women. Those who wish to increase their standing in society or lusts after any women of notable status and prestige. Perhaps even a combination of both."

"So, basically, suspect every straight male," Maia said sarcastically. "That's so very helpful, Sir Obvious."

"I'm glad you think so."

"That's not-! You know what? Forget it."

"Sir Alistair is correct," Celestine said, "Vult has proven that even our most vaunted heroes may be our enemies, so we must hold our most trusted advisors suspect as well."

All the Princess Knights nodded at their leader's words, taking them to heart with sullen expressions. Celestine gave them a moment to gather their thoughts before continuing.

"Since I received this information before this meeting, I've already taken steps to reinforce Ken's defenses. Additionally, I've ordered my people to begin construction of a 'Gate' that will link all the fortresses to one another. With it, we'll be able to easily transport troops and supplies in case one ever comes under siege."

Olga gave her counterpart an inquisitive look. "Making a permanent Gate spell is a massive undertaking in of itself, let alone making it large enough for entire convoys to travel to and fro. The mana consumption would be astronomical."

"That's why we'll be using the Sunlight Stones to power them."

The Dark Elf's eyes widened. "The Sunlight Stones, of course!"

"What are the Sunlight Stones?" Alistair asked.

"They are crystals that gather the energy of the sun and convert it into mana," Celestine explained, "They were the prized treasure of the fallen kingdom of Astora. I've managed to collect a large amount of them over the centuries. If all goes according to plan, there will be a Gate in every City Fortress in half a year's time. I have also authorized the production of several small Gates for all of you as well. The personal Gates will be completed in about a month."

"I can supply construction materials and workers for a discounted cost," Lulu offered. "We need to get those Gates up as soon as possible."

"Thank you, Lulu. That is everything I wished to share. If no one else wishes to say anything, then I will conclude this conference. You are all dismissed."

The rest of the Princess Knights bowed their heads and exited the room, leaving only the Elves and Alistair. Celestine breathed a sigh of relief, finally able to relax.

"Thank goodness everything was resolved peacefully." The High Elf turned to her knight. "You are truly a godsend Alistair. It is thanks to you that this was all possible."

"I'm glad to be of service, Your Highness."

Celestine frowned. "You do not need to address me so formally Alistair. When it is just us, I want you to call me Celestine, like you do Olga."

Olga smirked at the blonde. "Oh? Are you jealous of our familiarity?"

Celestine's cheeks flushed pink. "N-No! I-I merely feel like there is no need for such formalities between us. He has become more than a subordinate to me."

"Is that so?" Alistair queried in his usual way.

"Yes. It is just as old times, Alistair. When House Aquila stood at my side."

Olga harrumphed, crossing her arms. "You still haven't seen his face." She pointed out. "How can you claim such a thing when you don't even know what Alistair looks like?"

Her words caused Celestine to pout childishly. She stared up at Alistair, a pleading look in her eyes.

"… As you wish." Alistair sighed, obeying the silent order as he began to unstrap his helm. Celestine watched with bated breath as her knight's visage was finally unveiled to her. Her eyes widened and her breath stilled, completely shell-shocked as a familiar face stared back at her.

"Are you satisfied, Celestine?" He asked her.

The High Elf did not reply, instead reaching her hands up to cup his cheeks. She could not tear her gaze away, feeling her heart about to beat out her chest.

'_It… It really can't be…'_

She raised herself on her tiptoes to get a closer look.

'_No, not close enough._'

Celestine gently pulled him down further…

_'Oh Alberich… I've missed you…'_

And took his lips into hers.

**-]|[-**

**Hey there guys! How's it going?**

**Kinda disappointed with this chapter, not gonna lie. I feel like nothing really happened besides a recap.**

**But hey, finally, some romance!**

**No Codex Entry this time, since no new ancestors were introduced.**

**Translations:**

"**Incredibilis." – "Incredible."**

"**Cui bono?" – "Who benefits?"**

**Just a reminder to follow the story if you want to be notified of an update! I don't update on a regular schedule, so I imagine it would be more convenient to get an email than to just check every day XD**


	7. The Ties that Bind

Alistair was trained for many things; Fighting, horse riding, battle tactics, logistics, weapon and armor maintenance, foraging, tracking, cooking; hell, even farming. Give him a blade and he'll kill a demon with it in several dozen ways. Take it away and he'll find a rock to bludgeon it instead. Give him nothing? He would use his bare hands.

But a woman's lips latching onto his face?

He could only stare wide-eyed, completely caught off guard by the feeling of supple lips mashing into his own. He felt Celestine drape her arms over his shoulders, pulling him down even further so that she had more access of him. She gasped for air, pausing for only a moment before taking his lips again greedily. _Hungrily_. Her eyes were closed in pure bliss.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" Two voices furiously shrieked.

Alistair felt someone attempt to wrench him from Celestine's embrace, but the High Elf merely followed; holding tightly onto his frame. Another moment passed before he felt Celestine pulled away from him His lips were finally free from her assault and his vision no longer obscured by his queen's flushed visage. He saw Olga scowling at his liege, whom she threatened to crush in her arms. He glanced behind him, finding Chloe glaring at the High Elf with a look that was some combination of jealousy and anger.

"Have you gone mad, Celestine!?" Olga growled, her caramel cheeks darkening with an angry blush. "What possessed you to molest our dear knight!?"

Half-lidded emerald eyes blinked once, then twice, clearing that nostalgic haze that fogged them as Celestine became lucid once more. Her eyes widened in horror, the lustful blush that tinted her cheeks evolving to consume her entire face. She buried her face in her hands, her embarrassment too much to bear.

Celestine peeked out from between her fingers, looking at Alistair but unable to match his gaze. "A-Alistair, p-please forgive me! I-I don't know what came over me, I… It's just that… You look so much like Alberich, and…"

The poor thing seemed like she just wanted to curl up in a corner and die.

Alistair, still somewhat befuddled, tried to calm the High Elf. "That was… unexpected, but not unwelcomed."

Her hands lowered just the slightest bit. "I-Is that so?"

"It is," He nodded.

Olga scowled. "I would imagine it would be more welcome if you didn't think of another man while kissing him. Honestly, I even warned you that he was Alberich's spitting image and you still tossed yourself at him."

"… You both really loved him, didn't you?" It was less of a question and more a statement of fact.

Both elves nodded sadly, Olga loosening her grip on Celestine into a more comfortable hug.

"More than you can ever know." They said in unison.

"It wasn't fair," Celestine whispered. "He matured so fast. We still had the bodies of little girls by the time he was thirty. By the time we reached the cusp of womanhood, Alberich was already a century old. A miracle by human standards."

Olga hummed forlornly. "I don't know what was worse; that we had outlived him so easily, or that we couldn't be with him as we wanted."

"Milady…" Chloe uttered softly behind him, her heart going out to her liege.

Alistair's expression became unreadable, almost as if he still had his helmet on. He stepped away from Chloe's arms—to the woman's slight chagrin—and placed his helm and weapon on the table

"My liege… Celestine. My reports after Olga's surrender were not entirely truthful. There was one piece of information I've withheld from you."

Olga's eyes widened slightly, knowing exactly what the knight was about to unveil. "Alistair, I don't think that is wise."

He met her with an impassive stare. "She deserves to know."

"It will cause more problems than it will solve." She warned.

"I am prepared to deal with them." He responded instantly.

She paused, looking into the knight's determined gaze. "You will tell her regardless of my protests, won't you?"

"Yes." He stated decisively.

Celestine's head appeared to be on a swivel as she followed the conversation ' between the two in confusion. "What is going on? What have you two been keeping secret from me?"

Olga sighed in defeat, squeezing the blonde in her arms slightly. "So be it." She nodded at Alistair, the man returning it as his eyes met Celestine's.

"I have my ancestors' memories."

"What?" High Elf looked dumbfounded for a moment, as if unable to process the meaning of his words.

"Aberich, Alaric, Albion: I have all of their memories.

"S-Surely you jest…"

"He speaks the truth, sister." Olga whispered into her ear. "He knows things that only his forefathers can know, can cast magic only they could cast."

"N-No," Celestine denied, her befuddled expression turning to one of frustration as she squirmed out of Olga's embrace. "You are teasing me again. Stop it, it is no longer funny."

Alistair looked towards the memory-projecting mirror that still hovered above the table. He genuflected before the Elven royals.

"I can prove my honesty again," He said, grasping his queen's hand and placing it against his brow. "Take my memories-no, _Alberich's_ memories, and project them for your own eyes to see."

Celestine hesitated, clenching her free hand so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Her emerald irises smoldered as she looked down at the visage of the kneeling knight, debating internally whether or not she should entertain such a possibility.

_'But… What do I have to lose?'_ She thought.

Her curiosity won out in the end, Celestine's hand glowing once more as she extracted the memories from Alistair's mind. She placed them against the mirror, watching with bated breath as images began to play across the glass once more.

-]|[-

_Alberich stood before the mirror, dressed to the nines in preparation for his wedding. He wore a crimson red doublet with golden embroidery over a white dress shirt. On his left shoulder was a black capelet with a red inner-lining, his house's sigil emblazoned on the exterior: A golden eagle._

_His silver hair was cut short with a mid-fade and his face was clean-shaven. His reflection's crimson eyes stared back at him, resigned to his fate. Behind him, a small elven girl with braided blonde hair sat upon his bed. Her wide green eyes were focused on his back with a strained smile._

_"I-I still can't believe you're getting married," She stammered, "You're so young!"_

_Alberich didn't turn to face her, instead opting to look at her reflection. "I'm twenty-five, Celestine. This is the normal age for humans to be married."_

_"R-Right, I know that. Of course, I know that. But, it's still so strange! I-I hadn't thought you'd marry for at least another ten, no, twenty years!"_

_"This is necessary. Allying with the Astorans will bring great prosperity to our kingdom, as well was serving as a large step forward in our relations with the other human nations."_

_"I know, but…" She paused to swallow the lump in her throat, "But surely there must be another way to secure an alliance!"_

_"Lord Gwyn had made it clear that it would an alliance by marriage, or none at all. He is desperate to continue his lineage: His only son forsook his heritage, Princess Gwyndolin is barren, and Princess Gwynevere has disappeared. Princess Filianore is the only hope he has, and she has taken a liking to me."_

_"She likes you only because of your fame and prestige!" Celestine shrieked, unable to contain herself any longer. "She doesn't know you like I do! She cares only for the privilege of marrying Alberich the legend, not Alberich the kind, caring boy who always protected and watched over me! That harlot should just find some two-bit knight that boasts of his meagre renown and spread her legs for him!"_

_The first Aquila sent her a sideways glare, scolding her silently with his intense gaze. Celestine gritted her teeth, puffing out her cheeks indignantly as she tried to meet his stare. She was defiant for all of a moment before deflating under his gaze. Tears welled in her eyes as she began to hiccup and sob._

_"I don't want to lose you to her…"_

_Alberich sighed, stepping away from the mirror and taking a seat beside his childhood friend's right side. The bed creaked slightly under his weight, depressing the mattress so that Celestine tilted into his side. His cape billowed as he pushed it around to cover the elven girl. He placed at hand on her head, patting and stroking it gently._

_Celestine buried her head into his side, wetting his garments with her tears. She wrapped her small arms around him, tightly squeezing him as if afraid that he'll disappear the moment her grip laxed._

_"She's going to take you from me." She hiccupped._

_"She will not." He assured her. "I'm not going anywhere."_

_"You're lying. You're going to abandon us to live with your own kind, your own people."_

_"_You_ are my people: You, Father, Mother, Olga; I will never abandon _any_ of you. Didn't I make a promise?" He held his pinky out to her, "That I would forever stand at your side until my dying breath?"_

_She sniffled, looking at his outstretched finger with blurry eyes. "You made that promise when we were six years old. I'm surprised you remembered."_

_"It must seem like yesterday to you."_

_"Mm hmm," Celestine hummed, taking his hand into both of hers and pulling it close. "I remember when our hands were the same size. They fit so perfectly together, especially when our fingers entwined. But now… now I can fit both of my hands into one of yours with room to spare." She stared up at him, wondering where the time had gone. "You got so big, so fast."_

_"I'm still the same Alberich you used to order around. I just got a bit taller to help you raid the kitchen for sweets."_

_His joke made her giggle, even as her breath still hitched occasionally. "Alberich, I… I…"_

_"Yes, Celestine," Crimson eyes looked down on her fondly. "What is it?"_

_She paused, choking on her words and closing her eyes, her face still wet with tears. _

_"I will wish you the best." She finally gasped out._

_Alberich smiled sadly, knowing that they were not the words she wanted to say. "Thank you, sister."_

_"If she treats you badly, or makes you sad in any way…"_

_"She won't. Filianore is not that kind of person, I promise."_

_There was a knock on the door. "Sir Alberich," A servant's voice called out, "It is time."_

_He grunted audibly, rising from the bed. His half-cape hid his tear-soaked side from view. He looked back at Celestine, a small smile on his face._

_"Won't you accompany me? I would very much like to be seen off by my best friend."_

_Celestine's sullen figure took a deep breath. "Give me a moment to clean myself up, Alberich. I'll be there soon." She gave him a wet smile. "I wouldn't want you to be late for your own wedding!"_

_"Mmh." He hummed, quietly exiting the room with a small click of the door. "Then, I'll see you soon."_

_The door closed behind him, hiding Celestine from sight. He lingered for a moment, tears welling in his eyes as he heard the girl's quiet sobs continue, muffled by the heavy wooden door. Wiping away his tears, he trudged on to wait for his betrothed._

_"I'm sorry, Celestine."_

-]|[-

As the last of the memory faded away, so did Celestine's ability to stand. She would have collapsed to her knees had Alistair not caught her in his arms. She wept uncontrollably over his shoulder, wrapping her knight up tightly in her arms.

Chloe quickly pulled out a chair so Alistair could lower the High Elf down. Even after being sat down, Celestine's hold over Alistair wouldn't release, forcing the knight to his knees as his head was held against her bosom. The man turned his head to the side so as to not suffocate in her ample cleavage. With his ear pressed against her chest, he could hear the erratic beating of her heart and felt her tears fall onto his back.

"You… You really do have…" She tried to speak but kept choking on her words, so she settled for just holding Alistair close until she calmed down.

Everyone sat there in semi-silence, the only sound being Celestine's shaky breaths. Olga stared at her friend with a sympathetic look, a small stream of tears also flowing down her face. Chloe could only stand around awkwardly, not knowing how to help.

After a few minutes, Celestine's breathing normalized. Her eyes, puffy and red, had finally stopped shedding tears. She released her hold on Alistair to wipe at her face, allowing the knight to pull away.

"I'm sorry for doubting you, my knight. Olga." She apologized. "I cannot express how glad I am that you decided to tell me."

"Will you be all right, Celestine?" Olga asked worriedly.

The High Elf nodded. "I just need some rest. This… _revelation_ has exhausted me quite a bit." She stood from her seat. "Come, I will show you to your quarters before I retire for the evening."

They followed Celestine out of the room, Alistair bringing up the rear after grabbing his gear. As they stepped into the hall, the pair of guards saluted Celestine. The setting sun bathed the corridor in orange light.

Celestine glanced back her knight, appraising his battered look with a frown. "We'll need to get you fitted for another set of armor, Alistair."

Giving himself a quick once-over, he couldn't help but agree; grunting in his usual way. Every single piece of his defensive gear was damaged beyond repair. Even his arming doublet was severely damaged: The padded cloth was torn and ripped in various places after snagging on dented plate, and the chainmail gusset was broken in several places.

"Perhaps we should consider upgrading your weapon arsenal as well?" She continued.

He turned his gaze towards his weapons. Though they were in serviceable shape, he wouldn't say no to more refined arms. "That would be much appreciated."

"Then we shall visit the royal armory tomorrow."

"Celestine," Olga called, drawing the High Elf's attention, "There was one more thing that we've kept hidden. I felt it prudent to withhold the information from the rest of your council, and Alistair was considerate enough to keep my secret as well."

"Oh? And what is it?"

Olga, Chloe, and Alistair quickly glanced at their surroundings. Nobody was in sight, and Elven hearing did not detect anyone nearby. Certain of their privacy, Olga leaned in close to whisper into Celestine's ear.

"My magic is failing me," She told her. "It has been for quite some time now, even before I lost the Black Citadel. I can barely cast even the simplest of spells as I currently am."

"Oh dear," Celestine said worriedly. "Have you any idea what may be causing it?"

"Only a smidgeon. Part of the reason why I agreed to come here was because I was hoping you could help cure whatever ails me."

"Of course! Tomorrow, after Alistair's rearmament and outfitting, we'll run a few tests and- oh, we're here."

They stopped in front of one of the many suites in the residential area of the White Citadel. Alistair recognized the door to the Aquila suite, just across the hall.

"This shall be your room. I'm afraid you'll have to share, since all the other guest rooms are filled."

"That's perfectly fine." Olga said. "I'd rather have Chloe close by anyhow."

Chloe bowed slightly. "I shall of course take the floor, Your Highness."

"You may bunk with me, if you wish." Alistair offered. "My bed is large enough to comfortably fit two people."

His proposition caused the Dark Elves to blush. The knight's presence had been rather comforting over the last week and a half, and the thought of sharing his bed appealed greatly to them.

"O-Oh, uh… that's, rather kind of you. I'd be delighted-"

"Actually Chloe, why don't you take the room to yourself? Consider it a reward for your diligence. You can rest easy knowing that I'll have Alistair guarding me."

Chloe's face fell at Olga's words. "But, my liege-"

"It is fine, no? Unless you doubt Alistair's ability to protect me?"

"I don't, but I-"

"Then you would rather I sleep alone, unguarded?"

"Never!"

"Wonderful! I'm glad we could come to an understanding."

"Actually," Celestine interjected, saving Chloe from further harassment. "Every guest suite is given two twin-sized beds. There won't be a need to share one. Additionally, there are privacy wards that will keep any would-be intruder at bay. You can sleep peacefully knowing that fact."

"I see…" Alistair said. "Never mind then."

Olga pouted, throwing Celestine a dirty look. The High Elf smiled tiredly back at her, quietly reveling in the small victory against her friend.

"Take this opportunity to rest." Celestine said. "I fear that there will not be much time for it in the future, and you all surely need some time to unwind after your recent ordeal."

Olga nodded. "There is still much that we must discuss, but I shall save it for tomorrow, when we are both fully rested."

"Mmh," Celestine hummed, giving Olga a quick hug. "Then, I shall see you all tomorrow."

After bidding the High Elf farewell, the Dark Elves turned their attention to the knight once more.

"What are your plans for the rest of the evening, Alistair?" Chloe asked.

He thought for a moment. "Bathe, then eat a proper meal, then sleep. Most likely in that order."

"Could we perhaps join you then?" Olga requested.

"You want to bathe with me?"

Chloe blushed but Olga merely smiled mischievously. "Well, if you're offering~?" She teased.

"Very well," Alistair said nonchalantly, catching both women off guard. He opened the door of his own room, stepping inside to and glancing at them from over his shoulder. "Allow me to take my armor off, then I'll show you to the baths. I'd suggest storing your weapons in your room before we leave."

His door closed, leaving the Dark Elves with mouths slightly agape.

_'Does he… Did he just…? Surely he was joking as well?' _They thought, shaking their heads with nervous smiles. _'Of course, he is. He'll take us to the women's bath, then go to the men's to take his own.'_

Their minds cleared, the Dark Elves entered their room, heeding Alistair's advice. In the time it took them to stow away their weapons and move back outside, Alistair was already waiting for them; dressed in a plain beige tunic in lieu of his usual garb. He still wore his black pants, but they were now stripped of the metal plates and guards that reinforced it.

Nodding at them, he gestured for the Dark Elves to follow him. They fell into position behind him, walking at a brisk but comfortable pace to match his naturally long strides. They garnered a few looks from a pair of stray servant girls who gossiped obviously when they thought the party out of earshot.

"Are those… Dark Elves?"

"Haven't you heard? Lady Celestine's new knight captured them and brought them in today."

"I can't believe they're blessed with such beauty."

"They're ugly on the inside though. Evil, dastardly creatures: Nothing like the High Elves."

"Is that him leading them? The knight who captured them, I mean."

"No, surely not. I've seen him before, and the man never takes off his armor. It's probably his squire or a new servant."

"He's rather handsome though, isn't he?"

"Mmh, yes. Yes, he is. I might pay him a visit later~!"

Olga and Chloe visibly rolled their eyes, silently scoffing at the servants' idle gossip. Alistair, of course, paid them no mind; being entirely focused on reaching his destination.

-]|[-

They arrived at the baths soon enough.

An attendant had awaited them by the entrance. A pretty thing with brown hair and pale skin, the tips of her ears were only slightly pointed; indicative of a mixed elven heritage.

She bowed lowly to them. "Good evening Sir Alistair, Lady Olga, Miss Chloe. Please, do come in."

The attendant ushered them into the bathing area. It was a spacious room, able to easily fit their small party. White ceramic tile covered the walls and floor, etched with runes that kept the room clean and the water pure. Aqueducts fed water into the room, creating artificial waterfalls that cleansed the dirt from the body and into the drains. At the center of the room was the main bath, magically heated to the perfect temperature for relaxation.

Olga sighed in relief as the misty air filled her senses. She longed for a proper bath ever since her Black Citadel fell to the Black Dogs. Chloe shared her liege's sentiments, smiling softly as she basked in the room's comfortable warmth.

The attendant drew their attention, gesturing to a series of basins to the side of the room. "You may place your soiled garments into these basins. They are enchanted to purify your clothing of dirt and grime, bringing them to pristine condition once more."

"I see…" Alistair said, intrigued by the utilitarian magic. Such a thing would have certain come in handy during his early adventures: He remembered quite a few times where he was stranded with no way to clean his clothing.

Suffice to say, it stank; both literally and metaphorically.

Olga glanced around, noticing something quite off about the room. "How are the women and men separated?"

The attendant looked confused. "Separate? Your Grace, this is Queen Celestine's personal bathing room. These facilities were not made with sex-segregation in mind."

Chloe's jaw dropped, appalled by the servant's words. She turned to Alistair with a flustered expression. "Did you get us lost? Why did you take us to the royal bath!?"

Alistair was nonplussed, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "Celestine gave me permission to use these facilities the night I was knighted. I didn't get a chance to use it then, however."

With that, Alistair began to undress, much to the Dark Elves' surprise. His tunic was swiftly taken off, unveiling his lean, muscular torso. Pale skin was pulled taught over dense muscle, rippling with every movement he made. Well-developed pectoral muscles; toned, six-pack abs; and a perfect v-cut made for an enticing sight.

However, what drew his companions' eyes were not his wonderfully sculpted muscles, but his numerous scars.

Scar tissue covered the entirety of his body, both small and large. His body told a macabre tale of the pain and tribulations Alistair had gone through: Circular marks from puncture wounds; long, grey lines from blades biting into his flesh; and faded burns from acid and fire all looked agonizing beyond belief.

It was only when Alistair began to unbuckle his pants that the Dark Elves were stirred from their fixation. Chloe hastily lunged at Alistair, stopping him from undressing further.

"W-What are you doing!?" She hissed, her fingers clenching tightly around his.

Alistair quirked a brow. "Undressing. Am I not supposed to be naked while I bathe?"

"You are," the attendant said helpfully, earning Chloe's ire.

"That's not the point! Why are you getting naked around a bunch of women!?"

"I thought we were going to bathe together?"

"YOU WERE SERIOUS!?" She shrieked in embarrassment.

Olga placed a hand on Chloe's shoulder, locking eyes with the blonde for a brief moment before Chloe took a deep breath; calming slightly and releasing Alistair. The ravenette turned to the attendant with a neutral expression.

"You are dismissed," She told her, "We will call you if we have need of anything."

With a final bow, the attendant left the room. As soon as the servant was out of sight, Olga gave a tired sigh as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I should have known you'd take my teasing seriously. Your forefathers were just the same as you."

"I see…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"… Are we still going to bathe together?"

"Certainly."

"YOUR HIGHNESS!?"

Olga calmly turned to her subordinate. "Come now Chloe, don't be so dramatic. It's just a bath."

"A bath with a _man_!"

"No, a bath with a _friend_. It's completely different." Olga began to strip off her garments, much to Chloe's horror. Olga paid no mind to her servant's distress, nonchalantly peeling away her outfit piece by piece and slowly revealing more of her flawless caramel skin. Her top fell to the floor, her large bust bouncing slightly as it was released from its restraints.

Sighing in relief, she continued, "If you are not comfortable with this arrangement, you can wait until after we're finished to bathe yourself. I know you have some reservations about showing yourself to human men. I won't force you to join us."

Chloe froze for a moment, her eyes glazing over briefly before she shook her head. She would not let phantoms prevent her from doing her duty. "I am your servant, Your Majesty. My personal grievances are nothing before my duty to you."

With that, the blonde also began to undress. Not unlike Alistair, Chloe also bore a multitude of scars; though they were not nearly as numerous. She undid her ponytail, letting her long blonde hair cascade down her back.

As opposed to Olga's confident, unabashed stance; Chloe shyly covered herself with her arms, clearly embarrassed.

Olga turned an expectant gaze to Alistair, who was tentatively holding his hands on his beltline. "Go ahead Alistair. It's only fair~"

"… Very well." With permission given, Alistair discarded his last articles of clothing.

The Dark Elves' eyes widened; their gazes immediately drawn downwards.

"My, what a magnificent sword you wield, Alistair!"

"I never knew a human's could grow so…_ large_."

Alistair quirked a brow in confusion but did not otherwise respond to their comments. He stepped under one of the artificial waterfalls and began to wash himself, the Dark Elves following his example after a moment more of ogling. The enchanted water purified their pores, dragging out every impurity and leaving them feeling cleaner than they'd ever remembered being.

After rinsing themselves of dirt and grime, the three of them stepped into the center pool. Olga and Chloe slowly lowered themselves into the water, steadily acclimating their bodies to the water's heat. Alistair, uncaring of the sudden temperature shift, immediately immersed his body up to his chest.

"Mmh, I've missed this." Olga sighed. "I had almost forgotten what a proper bath felt like."

"Did you not have a similar bath at the Black Citadel?" asked Alistair.

She shook her head. "That fortress was built hastily with both security and defensibility in mind. We never had time to install extravagancies such as this." She chuckled then, a random thought coming to mind. "I bet your old captain hoped to live the royal life and experience all of its luxuries. He must be disappointed with his conquest, if only slightly."

Alistair grunted, breathing deeply of the bath's fragrant waters as it suffused the air. "You are rather vindictive, taking pleasure in even the smallest discomforts of your foes."

"It is in our nature," Olga explained. "Dark Elves as a whole are a vengeful race. Though we are often exaggerated as being the evil child of the elven races, there is some truth to the prejudice. We are the most merciless of our sibling elves, and those who wrong us will not often find an opportunity to do so again.

"Chloe here is an excellent example." She gestured to the blonde, gently putting a hand on Chloe's shoulder. "Would you mind if I told him? Or perhaps you'd like to tell him yourself?"

Chloe's lips pressed together, acquiescing to her queen's request albeit nervously. "I-If that is what you wish, milady."

Brow furrowed in confusion, the argent haired knight watched as Chloe turned around and pushed her hair over her shoulder; revealing her back to him.

Almost all of her backside was faded scar tissue, the crisscrossing pattern suggesting repeated lashings. This type of scarring would only ever appear due to one particular occupation.

"You were a slave?" Alistair asked.

"I was born into it." She explained. "Filthy human raped and enslaved my mother and sold me off after I was born. For twenty years, I was some human bastard's property. I was forced to sate his disgusting desires since I was but a young girl." She chuckled darkly. "As you can see, he loved to use whips."

She paused, turning around to face him once more. Her eyes were glazed over, as if living through her past all over again. "Lady Olga rescued me roughly two centuries ago, alongside a dozen other Dark Elven slaves. She lined up our masters before us and gave us all weapons so we could enact our vengeance."

A smile graced her features, giddy and nostalgic. "First, we cut off and force fed them their own genitals. Then, we strung them up by their toes and slit their bellies, letting them bleed out like the pigs they were. Before my old owner died, I pried all information I could from him about my mother and father, dangling mercy before his pathetic eyes as a bargaining chip. After I got all I could from him, I left him hanging there, swinging from the ceiling alongside his hedonistic comrades. Blood rushing to his head, lungs slowly being crushed by his heavier organs, and surrounded by the stench of rotting cadavers… Well, it was what he wanted, after all!

"With Lady Olga's help, I was able to track down my father. He was everything I imagined: A revolting, loathsome, cowardly dastard who could only find pleasure in boosting his own ego. Do you know what his first words to me were, after telling him who I was? "I wonder if you're as good a lay as your mother was?'

"I asked him where she was, and he revealed that she had committed suicide a decade ago. I didn't blame her—if anything, I was surprised she waited so long. Maybe she hoped to see me again? I'll never know. But I thought to do her a favor and kill her tormentor in her place.

"I lured him away from the public, captured him, then flayed him alive. For every second of torment that I endured, that my mother endured, I made him experience tenfold." She scoffed, "He broke after just a few minutes, the pathetic thing. After I was done, I impaled his corpse on a spike and left it for the crows."

Suddenly, the light came back to her eyes and she once again saw the present. A forlorn look graced her features as she lowered her head, unable to meet Alistair's eyes. "You must think I'm psychotic. An insane harlot, sullied and impure."

"I don't."

Alistair's instantaneous response startled her. "You're not at all appalled by my actions?"

The knight shook his head. "If anything, I applaud them. They were demons in human skin, so they deserved every bit of your wrath."

Chloe's maroon eyes peeked through her wet bangs to stare up at him, the subservient Dark Elf staying silent for a moment. Then, in a quiet, anxious voice, she asked, "T-Then… what _do_ you think of me?"

"I think you're strong, even more so than I first thought. Not only did you possess the willpower to continue living through years of torment, but you do not let your past trauma control you. The fact that you are able to suffer my presence in this vulnerable state speaks volumes, and I am honored that you trust me enough to be this close."

His words brought a heat to the blonde's cheeks, but she did not turn away from him. She lifted her head up to meet his gaze, a sincere smile on her lips. Her eyes were wet—not from the moisture of the bath, but from tears of pure joy and relief.

She had laid bare her miserable beginnings to Alistair, and he only thought better of her for it.

"Thank you, Alistair." She said gratefully. "Your words… they mean more to me than you could ever know."

"Hmm, I see…" Alistair hummed, giving her a small, reassuring smile in return.

Olga watched their interaction with a satisfied and pleased look, like a mother watching her child make their first friend. She was always concerned about Chloe's single-mindedness to serve her, so seeing her closest adjutant open up to others eased her worries. She couldn't help but feel slightly jealous that the knight wasn't turning his smile her way, however. There was a time where that same smile was reserved for her and a different blonde elf, and she missed it.

Olga knew that Alistair was not her Alberich. She knew that superimposing the older Aquila onto his descendant was wrong. Yet her heart could not yet differentiate between the two. She had to resist the urge to hold the man before her in her arms, to feel the warmth of his skin on hers. She settled for getting to know the last Aquila a bit better instead.

"You know Alistair, you have some rather peculiar scars. Surely there are stories behind them? For example, that one," Olga pointed a large bite scar on his collarbone. "Is it perhaps a reminder of an overzealous lover?"

Alistair reached up to touch the old wound, shaking his head. "I'm a virgin."

His usual deadpan delivery along with his choice of words sent the Dark Elves into a fit of giggles. "Oh? Is that so?"

"It is."

"Then would you enlighten us of its origin?"

"If you so wish…"

The trio would stay in the bath for an hour more, lost in Alistair's stories of his past battles and exploits.

-]|[-

_He dreamt of battle._

_In particular, Alistair dreamt of Alaric's encounter with the drake, from which he recollected Sunlight Spear._

_Except, instead of Alaric hunting the beast, it was him._

_Being thrust into battle so suddenly startled the knight, and he only just barely raised his shield in time to block the drake's flames. He felt the heat suffuse through the air and into his armor, though not uncomfortably so. He took this opportunity to calm his racing mind and think of his next move._

'… Five more seconds until it stops for breath. Just do as Alaric did and I should be fine.'

_Just as he predicted, the drake stopped its attack to refuel its oxygen reserves. He reared back his arm, surging mana to his hand and casting Sunlight Spear. Plasma gathered in his palm, elongating into a spear and sparking with electricity._

_As he took aim to hurl the Sunlight Spear into the drake's heart, he felt the spell begin to lose control. The spear slowly began to lose its shape the longer he held it, the knight unable to stabilize the magical construct. It surged as the plasma superheated the air around him, robbing him of breath as oxygen turned to ozone. Alistair had no choice but to release the malformed Sunlight Spear at his target._

_The spell flew slow and ungracefully. Despite the spell's aim being true, the magical energy dissipated harmlessly a few meters before it reached the drake. The creature, able to replenish its reserves, spit fire at him once again. Alistair was forced on the defensive once more. He noted that the intensity of the drake's flames grew hotter with every second._

'It's as if it's coming closer… !'

_As soon as the thought crossed his mind, the fire suppressing him stopped. Large clawed feet grasped him by the shoulders and carried him to the skies, pinning his arms so that he could not retaliate. The drake shrieked in victory as it rose in altitude, flying above the clouds before releasing Alistair from its grip. _

_Free falling from the troposphere and robbed of oxygen to breathe, Alistair was helpless as his body passed through the clouds once more. Reaching terminal velocity, he watched the ground approach him, welcoming him to his death. He closed his eyes, bracing for the impact that would paint him across the landscape._

_…_

_…_

_…_

_"How long are you going to stand there with your eyes closed, young Alistair?"_

_The familiar, aged voice caused the knight to slowly open his eyes. Instead of earth, he was greeted by his ancestors. They wore armor up to their neck, leaving their faces bare so that he could easier distinguish them. Alberich, the one who had called out to him, stood at the fore; flanked by both Albion and Alaric._

_Alaric in particular held a disappointed look on his face. Alistair could guess why._

_"I see the past dream was not a mere hallucination," Alistair said._

_"If only it were so," Alaric moaned. "Then I would not have to witness you butcher one of my beloved spells. Honestly, attempting Sunlight Spear before learning, let alone mastering Lightning Spear… I did not think our bloodline could become so arrogant and foolhardy."_

_"I apologize." In retrospect, it _was_ foolish of him to try and cut corners to save time and effort, especially with something so dangerous as magic. "I had thought Recollection's power absolute."_

_Alberich shook his head. "It can show you the initial process of spell casting but not refine the process for you. There was a reason why Alamar had considered it a gimmick. Though it gave him access to our spell arsenals, it did not grant him mastery over them."_

_"That is why I guided you through the casting of Great Heal." Albion continued. "The fact that you were able to cast Blessed Weapon and Sacred Oath so seamlessly were due solely to the similar casting processes they all share."_

_Alistair hung his head. "I see… Then, what can be done?"_

_Albion placed a hand on his descendant's shoulder. "We shall work to guide you through our spells, just I did when we last met. In time, you will be able to cast them without our assistance, though that won't be for a while yet. We will need to improve your mana control first and foremost."_

_Seeing Alistair's confused look, Alaric explained further. "The flow of mana within your body was stagnant for most of your life due to disuse. As such, you have little control over your mana output whenever you cast a spell. You have a habit of overcharging spells, making it unstable and wasting an excessive amount of mana. That is why Sunlight Spear failed for you earlier._

_"Now come. Dreams only last for as long as you are asleep, and we have already used up an hour of this night. You must work diligently if you wish to be able to fully control our spells for the trying times ahead."_

_Suddenly, Alistair found himself in a new area: A flat plain, littered with rusted weapons and armor, and covered in a fog so think he could barely see five feet in front of him._

_"To master our spells, you must start with the basics." The stern, disembodied voice of Alaric echoed around him. "You will learn properly this time."_

_A low moan sounded from behind Alistair, causing him to whip around to confront it. The fog parted slightly, revealing a lanky man in tattered robes shambling towards him, dagger in hand. The figure's skin was heavily shriveled and grotesquely pale, his eyes glazed over in a mindless, faraway stare._

_ Alistair reached for his own weapon but grasped naught but air. Even his shield was gone, leaving him with only his fists to defend himself._

_"I will guide you through Lightning Spear, this once." Alaric continued, and Alistair felt his body stiffen as a foreign entity took control of his movements. He felt the draw of mana into his palm, sparks of electricity coalescing in a familiar shape. After the spell completed, he regained control of his body._

_At once, Alistair noticed the significantly lower mana consumption of the spell, as well as the lesser heat emitted compared to Sunlight Spear. The surge of magical lightning was also much easier to control and stabilize, with only a few errant sparks branching away from the main body of the construct. He was confident that he could hold the electrical javelin for a few minutes, exponentially longer than the few seconds he could manage with its more powerful counterpart._

_The shambling man suddenly entered a dead sprint, raising his dagger overhead to bring it down on the knight's head. Quickly taking aim, Alistair let loose his Lightning Spear, watching it zoom towards his enemy._

_The spell lanced through the shambling man, piercing straight through his chest and unleashing a devastating surge of electricity. The man was immediately paralyzed, his nerves frying even as he tumbled to the ground. The spastic convulsing of his body was the only movement he could manage, and even they were not voluntary. After a moment, the man's body stilled as the last vestiges of electrical energy dissipated._

_"You see now, why I was so disappointed in you earlier." Alaric's voice echoed once more. "Though weaker, the power of Lightning Spear is still nothing to scoff at. For lesser enemies, it would be all you need."_

_"Yes, I understand now." Alistair nodded._

_"Good." More moans rang out from the fog, an almost deafening amount in fact. "Now, you shall do it again, without my aid."_

_The fog parted, and Alistair found surround by a legion of shambling zombies, not unlike the first._

_"… This is a bit much." Alistair protested as he desperately tried to imitate his previous casting before they decided to charge._

_"Repetition is the best practice for spell casting. Not only are you ingraining the process into your mind and making the spell easier to cast in the future, but also honing and strengthening your mana flow. Be at ease. You cannot die in your dreams."_

_With a thunderous roar, the entire mob began to charge Alistair._

_It was in that moment that Alistair realized that he would miss his dreamless nights._

-]|[-

A/N: What's up everyone?

Been a while since my last update, huh? I did warn ya'll that I don't have a regular update schedule XD. This chapter was originally about twice as long, but I decided to cut it in half to get _something_ out before the year ends. That means that the next chapter is well on its way, though perhaps not nearly as soon as everyone would like.

Also, I've rewritten the previous chapters. Nothing much, just fixing grammar and add a bit more to some scenes. It'll make rereading a bit more bearable until the next update, at the very least.

Big thanks to Primordial Vortex, who helped beta this chapter and for overall being a big inspiration for taking up the pen.


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